The Phantom and the Stagehand
by The Southern Rose
Summary: Belle and her brothers have been living on the streets for years; their parents murdered and left with Father's gambling debts to pay. Luckily they land jobs at the Opera Garner. Belle catches the eye of one lurking phantom but it's not what he expected, a stagehand! Impossible, right? Can she finally find love & peace, or will her family's past come calling for one final payment?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

" **Belle, Beeilung!" I heard my brother call out.  
** "Eine munite bittie!" I replied while making sure my flute was in working order. Today was the day the square was to be filled with people on their way to The Paris Opera House. Tonight they would be performing a new work, La Sonnambula by someone named Bellini I think, and by the sounds of Carlotta, it was to be a doozie. I put my flute down next to Conner and Lukas as they began to play their violins. Ever since I began to dance, we've earned more and more from people. This is my life; living with my two brothers like gypsies. We do anything for money, play music, dance, tell stories, and my favorite, making things. If we were lucky, someone would like my work so much, I would be hired to build something like a dresser or a table or one time; a family wanted me to make a bedframe as a wedding present for a newly-wedded couple. Anyway, as the song began, there were only a few people in the square; the song was a beautiful one from our homeland. It began softly with me curled in a ball on the ground, then I slowly rose up, my legs, torso and finally my arms and head. Through the beginning of the song you could hear the singing of birds, be it from the violins or actual birds that came to join our performance. As the song leaped on my dancing became more advanced, my dress flapping against my legs. The music became more dramatic, discords and eeriness making everyone in the crowd feel the storm raging on. At the crescendo of the song I leapt into the air with only a small wobble, landed softer than a snowflake, the dress following slowly. The music began to slow and finally came to a stop, the now numerous crowd applauding and throwing us many francs in return. **  
**"Lukas, ich bin werde in meinen Shop eingestellt. Ok?" he nodded and went back to his violin. He and Conner played a beautiful version of a familiar lullaby. I could hear kids telling their mothers 'That's our song!' I changed into my pants and shirt as people flocked to my stand to see what I had today. "Today ladies and gentlemen I have items that your children and grandchildren will want when you are gone. Furniture, picture and mirror frames, toys and more! Gather round and see!" We didn't get a break until the opera started and heaven knows how many languages I had to use to communicate with the customers. **  
**Conner came running to me, his hat clanking with the sound of francs and a big smile upon his face. **  
**"Very good my little Bruder!" I said embracing him in my arms. Conner couldn't be more than 9 years old and never did his smile fail to brighten my day. I turned and told him to put it in the money box. For the first time in a long time the box was a quarter of the way full. That is, after we paid off all of the debts we owed to merchants, and the gambling debts our father owed. **  
**"Schwester!" Lukas called. "Diese ist useren finale zahlung!" **  
**Conner tugged on my shirt and looked up at me, his head tilted adorably to one side, his brown hair messy and untamed and his blue eyes shining brightly with curiosity. He was the exact image of Father. I'd been waiting for this day for what seemed like ages. He handed me our ledger and after some quick arithmetic, I proved he was right. **  
**"He said this is the last payment we have to make to Monsieur Foss." Conner jumped with excitement. **  
**"Und ich spiele wir haben eine feier!" Lukas cried. Feier was one of the few German words Conner knew, it meant party. I smiled and quickly ducked into my side of the tent to change into the only dress I had beside my Sunday mass dress, grabbed a shawl, and headed to the market. Most merchant were closed, but one man was always open, if you knew what to say. When I arrived he was just packing up from another day's work.  
"Bon jour Messier DuBois, how has business been?"  
"Well, mamselle Belle, Bonjour! It's been very well."  
"It seem that success is contagious! Look at what I finally have!" I shook the box softly, letting the small amount of extras ring in his ears.  
"Que je sue damné! Look who is moving up in the world for once! What can I get for you today?"  
"I am out celebrating! We are now officially debt free and have money to spend. What do you have that is fresh?" I bought some fresh green beans, corn, some bread that his wife had made that afternoon and a real treat: meat. After my 'shopping debut' I returned to find two unknown guests in our tent having a hard time communicating with Lukas and Conner, since one of them hasn't said a word in years and the other speaks exclusively German. I bend down to grab my knife when Conner waves me off, mouthing something about picture frames. I put my knife away and address the two men. **  
**"Messieurs, may I help you?" They turned in surprise. They introduced themselves as Messieurs Badeaux and Leroux, owners of the Paris Opera House. **  
**"Oui Mon cher. My wife was walking through here and bought his wonderful frame. When she told where she got it, I had to see the young man that made this, do you who made it?" I looked at Conner, who was laughing in his silent way and once I translated for Lukas, he burst into laughter as well. **  
**"I hate to disappoint you Monsieur Badeaux, but you are looking at her. I made that frame." I could see the shock in his eyes. He couldn't believe that this girl that stands before him made this. "What, you do not think that a girl can be good with her hands?" **  
**"Mademoiselle, is this where you live?" I nodded. He began to tap his finger on his chin "I see, my wife said you also dance. Is that true?"  
"Well, yes but not very well. I just dance when we need the extra money, which comes about when your Opera is about to debut a play."  
"Well, with some help from…" he trailed off. Then an idea struck him. "How would you and your brothers like to work and live at the Opera Garner? We could use more musicians since Carlotta well, is an acquired taste and a lady stagehand would be most helpful when it comes to painting." My eyes lit up. I felt Lukas's large hand on my shoulder. Though he was my younger brother, he towered over me like Father did over Mother. Through translation, he was as happy as I was. Conner was already packed by the time I turned to ask. Monsieur Leroux began to laugh. **  
**"I take that as a yes then. May I help the rest of you pack?" Within the hour, all five of us were walking into the doors of the opera house. It was much bigger than any of us expected. Conner was amazed at the sound of his feet echoing as he walked. He kept tugging at my shirt and smiling as he pointed at his feet. I would say 'yes Conner, I can hear your footsteps.'  
First, Badeaux showed Lukas and Conner to the room where the musicians stayed. I told Lukas that if Conner ever had nightmares to come and get me. Then I followed Monsieur Leroux to another room, a private room.  
"We can't put you in the same room as the stagehands, because well you understand, and there is no room for you with the ballerinas. So this is the only other option. Please make yourself comfortable, tomorrow you will start rehearsal as a stage hand. Good night Mademoiselle." And he closed the door behind him. This was the first time in nearly 7 years I'd had a bed not made from straw, let alone my own room. Now I have a tub, dresser and even a full length mirror. I laid out what clothes I had and took out my music box. I wound it up and let it play. I hummed along as I changed into a nightgown that desperately needed to be replaced. It was my mother's before she died. I heard a knock at my door; I opened it to see little Conner standing, and shaking with a blanket tightly clutched in his hand. I knew what this meant. I let him in and put him in my bed. I did the one thing that puts him to sleep time and time again. The melody is soft and light and with the added things my father taught, Conner fell asleep within minutes. I carried him back to where Lukas was and he took it from there. I kissed both of their cheeks and bid them goodnight. After reading out of Father's favorite book, I fell asleep. That night I dreamed of my parents, all 5 of us were happily living in England. Father was playing the piano while Mother softly sang baby Conner to sleep. Lukas and I were running around outside, playing tag and climbing trees. I could see Lukas's youthful, brilliant red hair shining in the summer sun. Mother soon came outside to warn us to be careful, but we never listened. We came inside for lunch but in the background I could hear footsteps; like someone was walking within the walls of the opera house.


	2. Chapter 2

(Erik's POV)

 **Good evening everyone! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter I posted. Please forgive my delay in posting Erik's point of view, between work and summer classes, I've been busy! I would love to have you review and leave comments for me so I can better improve my work. Your humble servant, The Southern Rose**

You think those two twits would have learned by now how much I HATE Carlotta. No matter how many 'accidents' occur around her, they CONTINUE to ignore my orders in MY opera house. Both Leroux and Badeaux are just as stupid and ignorant as Andre and Firmin when it comes to running an opera house. They belong in the office, not the art. Even Madame Giry is starting to show her anger, which hardly ever happens. For weeks now they have been rehearsing a newly written opera to celebrate the grand opening of the Opera Garner. Not that I truly meant to burn it down to begin with, but when no one truly takes your presence seriously, you must resort to drastic measures to 'capture their undivided attention'. As I continue to edit a piece I wrote long ago, a certain orchestra member is absolutely hell-bent in ruining a rather nice opera, not my taste in art, but art is art. The opening of the Opera Garner is in less than 3 hours and the prima violin still hasn't corrected his bowing. His awful playing is ruining my concentration. I grumble with disgust and put my quill down. Grabbing my full mask, I decide to head to the surface, hoping a walk in the air to do me some good, plus my pantry is rather bare since I have been swamped in my music. The square surrounding my opera house is rather busy and bustling with life; people are talking and blooming with excitement of the grand opening. I laugh, almost amused at their excitement. My ear catches a familiar melody floating above the flourishing crowd. Using my cane to encourage people out of my way, I follow the soft tune to a circle of people where 2 young boys are playing violins, a hat at their feet. Though they are good, I roll my eyes and turn to leave when I hear a small girl squeak with awe.  
"Mommy look! She's so pretty! I wanna dance like her!" I glance over my shoulder to see a young woman has entered the circle of people. She begins to dance as the boys play. I know it by heart, but the boys seemed to have added a small, underlying countermelody, darkening the tune and making it more something I would write. Since they were so fortunate to capture my attention, I might as well watch. I stand behind the mother and daughter couple. For most of the performance, I only catch glimpses of the girl. Soon I see she is less a girl and more a young woman, with very promising talent, at least as a dancer. The piece briefly stops and the young woman faces me. She's mesmerizing; her hair wasn't quite red nor was it brown either, and her eyes were blue like fresh water in a stream. Oh how I could stare into them all day… I shake my head as the music continues. What a silly notion! I had my chance with love and I blew it! Soon the piece comes to a close and the girl wobbles, but lands her leap. People clap and throw francs at her feet and in the boy's hat before moving on to the next side show attraction. She gathers them quickly and goes back to the boys, kissing each one of them on the cheek. Now that they stand together, anyone could tell they are siblings, the girl must be the middle child. I go against the flow of the crowd to get a closer look at the curious family.  
"Ich bin werde in meinen Shop eingestelle, ok?" The elder of the boys nodded his head, she then repeated the same phrase in English to the younger boy, who simply smiled and began to play a duet with his brother. Why did she speak German to one and French to the other? Why did she speak German at all? In my deep thinking the girl had changed into… pants?! She opened the side of a tent to display wooden objects. Boxes, toys, picture frames were all on display. Men and women were flocking to the tent to examine and buy what she had for sale.  
"How much for the stool?" one man barked out.  
"What about this jewelry box?!" Another woman cried, shoving it in the girl's face, demanding a price, and apparently was willing to pay about anything. Such gaudy, awful people; all they enjoy is spoiling themselves with things. Somehow I let myself get caught with the flow of the crowd and found myself at her tent.  
"Fräuline bitte! Diese Steppdecke ist nicht zum Verkauf!" She scolded; the same woman who wanted the box was now invading this girl's private life. I clutched my cane, nearly bending the silver the head. The woman said something in German to the young girl and stormed off. I had to laugh a little, she looked like Carlotta storming off stage after one of my little 'accidents'. Her head was held high and she was screaming in a language I really didn't understand. While the girl put the blanket back into her tent, I decided to peruse her little shop. I picked up a picture frame with my free hand, it was elegantly made.  
"See something you like?" My head snapped to, the girl standing behind the table with a smile. Damn, she was even more enthralling up close.  
"I think this one will do. Tell me mademoiselle, did your elder brother make these?" She gave a stifled laugh.  
"I have no older brother."  
"Then the young boys you were performing with are not family?" I knew the elder boy had to be a suiter.  
"Oh yes Monsieur, they are my family. I am the elder of my brothers." A middle aged woman pushes me aside and pick up another frame, demanding its price. The girl states the price, which she gladly pays and hurries off. Her eyes return to me. "For your kindness sir, please keep the frame. You are the first to actually have conversation with me that consists more than asking for the price of something." I bid her good day and leave the now empty square. I hear the girl's voice calling out to her youngest brother. I lurk in the shadows behind the tent she was using as a shop, which I see is their home. She praises the youngest brother for his work, and yet he still doesn't say anything.  
"Schwester!" the older brother calls out "Diese ist useren finale zahlung!" I see the younger one pull on her shirt and she translates her brother's words, saying it's their final payment. Payment? Payment to whom? I hear more German gibberish before the girl emerges from the tent in more appropriate clothing and leaves, a box in her hand. While she is gone, the two managers of mistakes enter the tent, asking for the young man who made the frame one of them held in their hand. I rolled my eyes and left before this turned into a spectacle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello my readers! Since I haven't done this yet, I would like to remind everyone out there I do NOT own any of the original characters of Andrew Lloyd Webber's production NOR do I own the ones in Leroux's book (which if you haven't read is a great read) the only ones I lay claim to are: Belle, Conner, Lukas (yes its spelled with a K) their parents, Christopher, and the new managers. I would love reviews from you guys as I see them as a way to better my work. I remain your obedient servant, The Southern Rose.**

 **The next several weeks and months** , I worked as a stagehand and even an apprentice seamstress. I did everything from pulling ropes, moving props and sets, to fixing a ballerina's costume when the head seamstress was out. I was always jealous of them. I could never be that graceful, sure I tried but these girls had been trained since they were young. Oh well, I was happy with what I was doing, I had a paying job and my brothers have a place to sleep. If there was one thing to complain about it was hands down La Carlotta, yikes! Sometimes I wonder how she hasn't broken a window or mirror during a performance. As she began to less sing and more belt out her notes, the maids of the opera house quickly began to wad up small bits of rag and put them in their ears in hopes to combat the diva's shrill soprano screech. _Stay in one place long enough you learn a few tricks of the trade._ Even the directors seemed to follow her lead. Whatever she thought the tempo was, or the choreography was to look like, or even the costuming, no one ever dared to correct her. It was always "Yes Senora Carlotta." If another idea was suggested, Carlotta would fly into a rage and walk, no storm of the stage and toward the back exit of the opera house. Then Badeaux and Leroux would coddle her with pink dresses, new pets, and priceless jewelry and like a dog, would return to her stage to pick up where she left off.  
Today was no acceptation either; La Carlotta had yet another lead role in a production. We were fixing props that were not to "Senora Carlotta's" personal liking and I got stuck with altering her dress. She demanded that there be more tulle on the skirt and there needed more pink in the dress as a whole. The production was set in England and Carlotta was to play a wealthy English Lady in a satire piece. English noblewomen usually wore bold colors, or white if the occasion suited.  
"As you so desire Senora, but perhaps I may sugg" She quickly swatted me with her primrose fan and called me toad and other names in a thick Spanish accent, probably names I shouldn't repeat. _Note to self; NEVER make a suggestion if you want to avoid being beaten to death by a fan._ All I wanted to do was crawl into bed with my book and read until I fell asleep. The day seemed to drag on and on, no end in the future. Finally, Carlotta had enough for the day and left for her chambers. The ballet rats scurried through the sets and back to their holes to change and roam freely.  
"My, my Mademoiselle, you certainly can hold your own around a stage." Said Christophe, the new head of sets. "But how are you when it comes to this?" and held up a whiskey bottle. I shook my head.  
"I don't drink." I tried to walk away but he had other things on his mind. He grabbed my arm, flung me around, and pinned me to the wall. Though most people were bigger than me, he was a mountain and I was an ant. His tanned arms held me tight to the wall while his hazel eyes were glassed over with whiskey and bourbon.  
"I never said you could leave ma ange..." His speech slurred and his breath stunk to high heavens. "No wonder your name is Belle… beauty like yours should be taken advantage of…" He leaned in to me slowly. I used this to my advantage. I pulled my knee into his groin, a slew of profanity stumbling from his mouth. I grabbed my knife from my boot and in one fail swoop, pinned him to the wall. I was about to issue a death threat when a powerful voice boomed from behind me.  
"Touch her again sir, and you'll wish you'd never drank a drop in your life." That seemed to get his attention. I let go and he scrambled back to the stage with the other men. _Why couldn't I be like other normal girls and be a simple ballerina?_ I tried to find who or what that voice was but just as quickly as it arrived, it vanished. I shook it off. I placed my knife back into my boot when someone was crying out my name.  
"Belle!" I turned to see Meg Giry coming down the hall, her golden hair bouncing like her gauzy ballerina skirt. I gave her a hug. "Are you ok? Christophe told us what happened, but since he was drunk I wanted to make sure it was true." I nodded my head.  
"I'm alright, I think. I have a question, I heard a voice defend me, but when I turned to thank him, it, whatever, it just vanished." Her face paled. Her eyes darted around before she took my hand and in a death grip led me to her dorm room and locked the door. She told me that it was the Phantom of the Opera. I'd heard of this Opera Ghost but I never believed in such a childish bedtime story. Plus, it couldn't be even if such a man did exist; he died in the fire of the opera house years ago and if my memory serves, he likes the dainty singing and dancing type, not a girl who works for a living. The clock sound reminded us that it was time to turn in. She walked me to the door and bid me goodnight. I trudged to my room and turned my music box on and sang with the music as I bathed and changed. I was in bed with the newest book from the bookshop when I noticed the mirror wasn't as wide as it normally is. I went over to fix it when I found a stairwell descending into the darkness. I grabbed my long cloak and threw it on and strapped my knife to me for, safety reasons, then grabbed a candle and followed it _One day my curiosity is going to get me in trouble_. The passageway wasn't what I expected; it should be covered in cobwebs and dust, but none of them were to be found. _Someone has been down here, and very recently._ As the hallway ended, a small lake began. I walked around for a boat or another way around but to my luck, there wasn't. As I turned around to head back up the stairs, a light began to glow. It was small, like a single candle, and then slowly grew larger and larger. Now I had to find out what, or who, was over there. I eased into the bone-chilling water and swam to an iron gate. I dove under the gate and gasped when I came up for air, my teeth were chattering like squirrels. Now I could hear music, very beautiful music at that. I pulled myself out of the water and walked toward the music, ringing out my cloak and frail nightgown. I turned the corner to see a man sitting at a small piano forte playing his heart out. He stopped, wrote something on his paper and returned to his playing.  
"Wow" I whispered. He stopped, perked up and turned around. I hid behind the corner before he could see me. I heard his bench move and footsteps walk in my direction. I took off running, hoping to find a place to hide.  
"Who's there? You can't hide from me!" _Oh yea, watch me._ His voice made him sound large like a beast yet his footsteps were as light as snow. I slid to a stop at the Iron Gate, nowhere to go but down. Soon the hallway was flooded with light. I dove head first into the glassy water and missed the gate by mere inches. I swam under the water and held my breath for as I could. I waited for the light to disappear. Finally, when I couldn't hold it any longer, the light moved away and I surfaced, gasping for air. My body was shivering and my teeth chattering as I swam the rest of the way to the steps of the staircase. When I got to the edge, light swamped the catacomb. On the shore was the man playing the piano. "How did you?" I asked. He just shook his head.  
"What are you doing down here Mademoiselle?" He demanded. I pulled myself out of the water.  
"Well, I saw my mirror wasn't right and found this hallway. I followed it and well, the rest is history."  
"I could kill you where you stand. And in all honesty, I should." he said, his hand behind his back. He pulled out his sword and pinned me to a wall. I took my knife out of the strap on my leg and drove the butt of it into his elbow. He jumped back and howled in pain. He tried again, but this time, I was ready. I ducked, letting his sword create sparks off of the wall. We went back and forth for what seemed like forever when he swung his sword at me again, cutting my arm. I reached for my arm when he thrusted the weapon forward, making me jump back and into the water. When I swam back to the surface, the man was still standing there, his face as cold as the water, the tip of his weapon meeting my cheek.  
"I must say mon cher, that was some impressive knife fighting. Maybe you are worth more alive, eh?" His words sent shivers down my back. He extended his hand out to me and yanked me from the water. My arm burned like fire from his steel. "Like some help?" His voice surprisingly soft.  
"Oh so now we're being civilized." I sneered back. His face was still cold.  
"Well I could let you bleed." _Point taken._ I sighed and let him help me. The stranger took my hand in his, guiding me to a small boat, big enough for just 2 people. After he ferried me across the lake, he laid me on the floor next to his piano bench to drip dry without ruining his precious furniture. He returned with a bottle of alcohol and soft, gauzy cotton. He let the alcohol drip onto my cut. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out in profanity. He let out a small mumble, then wrapped my arm in the cotton. He quickly left to return the supplies to their proper place; only when he returned did he see me eyeing his piano, which looked like the one Father had and taught me on. He asked "Do you play mon cher?" I nodded. He pulled another bench next to the piano and listened as I played. I played on to the sheet music he was working on earlier, working hard to keep the tempo the music demanded. As I played I could see the wheels in his mind begin to turn. While I was playing his work, he swayed to the music and even hummed, making him seem almost human. I came to the end of what he'd written and then added what I thought would be a good ending. His eyes widened with excitement. "Here; dry clothes for the night." He said with clothes in hand. I walked to his side to grab the clothes.  
"Thank you." I said. I turned for the boat when a rock on the floor caught me by surprise. I used the wall to catch myself, cutting my hand in the process. I didn't even notice it until my new acquaintance said something.  
"Mon cher, your hand." He said. I looked down. I didn't think anything about it. My hands often bled when I worked, a small cut was nothing new. "May I ask you something?" I gave him the 'go ahead' look. "Why are your hands cracked? A ballerina's hands don't ever crack."  
"Oh well, I'm not a ballerina. I'm a stagehand, and I don't dance all that well." He nodded, deep in thought. Not changing his facial expression, he reached behind the piano and pulled out a small jar. He leaned in close, now I could see that it was a mask that he had on the other half of his face. No wonder he kept only one side to me.  
"Give me your hands." He asked and took my small cracked hand into his much larger and smoother one. He opened the jar and got some of its contents on his free hand. With one stoke, he smeared the lotion on my hands. At first it stung, but after working it in, my hands felt much better, better than they had in years.  
"Thank you" I yawned. He laughed and shook his head.  
"You should be getting to bed." I didn't even try to walk; I just let him pick me up and set me in the boat. We rode across the lake back to the stairs leading to my room. When we docked, I could hardly see. In three or so steps I fell asleep in his arms. The next morning, I found a small box plus a note in handsome calligraphy sticking out from my book, which was placed in my hand.

 _Mademoiselle,  
I do apologize for my actions last night, you are the first visitor I have had in years. Please accept this nightgown as a token of my apologies. It will serve you much better than its original recipient. _

_OG_

I opened the box to reveal a beautiful nightgown. It was pure white like a wedding gown and made of real Chinese silk. The bodice had a soft blue ribbon underneath it with matching blue ribbons on the sleeves. I quickly put it on, never feeling something so wonderful before. It was much too big for me, the sleeves ended at my forearms instead of at my elbows, the bottom was at my ankles and my chest didn't quite fill out the bodice, but I loved it. At the end of rehearsal, I was pleased to slip into its comfort and fall right to sleep, no reading required. _  
_


	4. Chapter 4

(Erik POV)

I watch the rehearsal of the new opera from my usual perch and sigh in disbelief. The only true difference between the new managers and the previous ones is my pay and my box. Though they increase my pay and leave me my box, they think I do not notice the proud pink peacock strutting around the stage. I laugh to myself as the maids of the opera house once again take small bits of cloth and stuff their ears. My attention is snapped back to the stage as I hear a shrill Spanish accent ringing through the auditorium. I see the Prima Donna flailing her hands like she was drowning and screaming about her dress.  
"Someone will pay for dis! I specifically asked for MORE pink! I am to play a Lady no?!" The two twits come running to her side and promise her anything she desires; new furniture in her dressing room, jewelry, and I think I heard something about a new dog. She began to cry, or at least act like she was crying. Soon she pulled her head up, gave her best fake smile and 'accept' their flattering gifts. _Old habits die hard, don't they? Her smile is more fake than my mask trying to be a part of my face._ I leave my box and decide to do a little skulking around among the catwalks. I reach the stairwell behind the stage when I hear Carlotta say something about leaving for the afternoon, and the click of her heels walk off the stage. I quickly ascend the stairs and stride across the planks, admiring my employees as the shuffle about. I hear the giggle of little rats as they return to their dorms, and the screeching of props as they are put away.  
"As you so desire, Seniora Carlotta, but may I sugg-" The voice is cut off by a swift thud and more Spanish insults. I look down to see Carlotta and a new girl trying to hold Carlotta's costume.  
"YOU WILL BE SILENT 'ITTLE TOAD!" the Prima donna scolded, then paraded off with her pomp and circumstance to her dressing room. The girl sighed and gave the dress to the head seamstress. Now her full figure and face were in my view. I'll be damned if it isn't the little dancing girl from the street. Her hair was pulled tightly back like a ballerina, several strands framing her sweaty and tired face.  
"My, my Mademoiselle, you certainly can hold your own around a stage." Said Christophe, the new head of sets. "But how are you when it comes to this?" and held up a whiskey bottle. The girl shook her head and said she didn't drink, which I found interesting. The girl walked past the blundering drunk, probably wanting to be left alone. The fool grabbed her arm and pulled her back, pinning her to the wall. She turned her head away in disgust, I could smell his breath from the catwalks.  
"Please just leave me alone…." She softly pleaded. He ignored her plea and moved in closer for his kill.  
"I never said you could leave ma ange..." His speech slurred "No wonder your name is Belle… beauty like yours should be taken advantage of…" I growled in rage and had a sandbag ready to drop on his head when to my curious surprise, the girl took matters into her own hands. She drove her knee into his crotch, making even me wince in pain. Christophe swore like a pirate and stumbled away, then was given a taste of his own medicine when she pulled a knife from her boot and pinned him to the wall, ready to cut out his tongue. I couldn't help but, enhance the situation.  
"Though her again sir, and you'll wish you'd never drank a drop in your life!" I could hear my voice echoing like the ghost I am. His eyes went wide with fear as he scrambled away and back to the rat hole from which he crawled out of. The girl looked around to try and find me, but I left before she could spot me. I wandered back to my box, forgetting I left my cane behind my chair. Soon my mind was flooded with music, sweet, pure music. _I haven't felt this since…_ I dare not utter her name, but the music was strong, powerful, I had to write it down. I quickly fled to her old dressing room, hoping it would stop. The music was only getting louder and stronger; I looked around to see someone has move in and made themselves at home. I shook my head, reminding myself to scare them away before I moved the mirror and retreated to my piano. I took the boat and hastily rowed across. _I must get to my piano before this infernal melody kills me…_ pulling blank sheets of parchment from wherever I could find them, I threw myself into the melody, letting it take me over. It was nothing like I had written before, it was pure bliss. The ebb and flow graced my fingers as I played, only pausing for a moment to let me scribble down its notes before it took me over again. I finally broke from my trans, my body weak and weary. I sat up and began to write everything down, every note, key change…  
"Wow…" a soft whisper stated. Suddenly the music was gone. I couldn't hear it anymore. I growled and snapped to the sound.  
"Who's there? You can't hide from me!" I grabbed the candelabra from the piano and my sword from behind the piano and marched toward the whisper, a small splash now taking its place. "damnit!" I cursed. Whoever it was went under the gate. I waited for them to surface, but then had a better idea. I went back to the boat and rowed to the only place where they could escape to. I docked the boat and walked to the stairwell. I could see someone swimming in the icy waters. _No one escapes me and lives to tell about it…_ I stood waiting on the shore, and to my surprise the little dancing girl swam to me. I demanded to know how and why she was in my domain… she stopped the music in my mind! It would be a shame to kill a beautiful young flower like her, but no one disrupts my music.  
"What are you doing down here Mademoiselle?" my voice growling at the girl. She pushed herself from the water as I set the candelabra to the ground.  
"Well, I saw that my mirror wasn't straight and went to fix it, then I found the hallway and followed it. The rest is history." _Nosey little rat… all ballerinas are nosey creatures. This one's curiosity has gotten them killed…_  
"I could kill you where you stand, and in all honesty I should…" I pulled my sword out and pinned her to the wall, her blue eyes were full of fear, but not for long.  
"Damn you, you little rat!" I howled. She had driven the butt of her knife into my elbow. _Clever girl…you're going to regret that…_ I swung my sword at her, creating sparks off the brick wall. She wasn't a bad fighter, must have picked up a few things on the streets in self-defense. I was trained, she lacked proper stance. I lunged forward with my fist, letting her block it long enough to cut her arm with my sword. She didn't scream, just grabbed her arm and readied herself for the next move, which I gladly obliged her with. She was dangerously close to the water's edge. I grinned and thrusted my sword at her core, just enough for her to lose her balance and fall into the water. _That will teach her…_ she soon surfaced, and I put the tip of my blade to her cheek, making her tread water with her wounded wing. I let a smooth, dark grin grace my lip as I put my blade away. "I must say mon cher, that was some impressive knife fighting. Maybe you Are worth more alive, eh?" her face when pale at my words. _Good, you should fear me you little ballet rat._ I pulled her from the water and offered her help.  
"Oh so now we're being civilized?" she smarted back to me. _Mon cher, that mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble…_  
"Well I could just let you bleed." Her arm was dripping with blood through her hand. She sighed and took my outstretched hand. I set her in the boat and ferried her back to my lair. She was still dripping when we arrived, and I made very sure not to have her dripping on my furniture. I went back to my room to grab the gauze and brandy. I came to my knees to treat her cut. I poured the brandy down her shoulder, a hiss coming from her lips as she tried to bite them to keep from swearing.  
"Sorry" I mumbled inaudibly. I wrapped her arm in the gauze then quickly returned them to my room. As I came back to take her home and offer her dry clothes, she was standing over my piano, eyeing it like a child at Christmas. "Do you play mon cher?" The girl turned and nodded her head excitedly as she took my bench and began to play what I had written just moments before. I growled at first, but she was impressive in keeping the tempo of the music. I pulled another bench beside her to watch, almost laughing at how she worked to keep my set tempo. _Damn this girl is quite good, very promising talent…_ I didn't realize I was swaying and humming until she came to the end of what I had written and continued the piece, ending it perfectly, like she was the one who had written the music in my mind… I beamed with excitement. _Could she really be…?_ I handed her some dry clothes to change into before we left.  
"Thank you" she said. As she walked to the boat, one of my small clay figures caught her by surprise. Her hand went to the wall, sliding over its jagged edges before she caught her balance. I could see a small streak of red on the wall.  
"Mon cher, your hand." She looked at her hand, shrugged it off and continued to the boat. _She just cut her hand and she acts like its nothing?! What an odd girl… I wonder…_ I called to her, asking her to come back to the piano. She came back and sat on the bench. I took her tiny hand in mine. "Why are your hands cracked? A ballerina's hands don't ever crack." She let out a small laugh.  
"Oh well, I'm not a ballerina. I am a stagehand and I don't dance that well." I looked away, trying to figure out why those two twits were stupid enough to hire a female stagehand. Occurrences like today were bound to happen daily, or worse. I reached behind my music and grabbed my jar of oils, a special gift from a certain Persian. I took her hand and smeared the oil over her hands. They had never seen such gentle treatment in many years. I gently worked it into her hands, her eyes wide when I finished.  
"They have never been so soft…" I gave a grin and kissed the top of her left hand, a blush rising in her cheeks.  
"Thank you.." she yawned.  
"You should be getting to bed." I picked her up and carried her to the boat, laying her down and ferrying her across like I would do with…her… We docked, the girl's blue eyes half closed with slumber. I chuckled to myself as I picked her up. Even dead asleep I could carry her with only one arm. I hummed our melody to her as I climbed the staircase to her room. I put her to bed, then got an idea. I quickly strode back to the boat and ferried myself to my abode, tearing apart my junk room. _I know it's here somewhere…_ I scavenged for a simple box tied in chord. _There it is!_ I pulled it from the dusty room, blowing away the years. Taking a piece of parchment, I used my best script to write the girl a letter. I stuck it on the box and delivered it to the girl. I placed the box on her nightstand, accidently knocking her book off. I snapped my head up to her, but she didn't move. _At least she is a learned girl…_ I picked up the book; _King Arthur… I see the girl has a sense of adventure…_ I took the note from the box and placed it in her book. Even asleep she was a ravishing creature. Her auburn hair was still in its top knot. I lifted her head and pulled the ribbon from her hair and cascades of auburn spilled out. It was straight like spider's silk. I set her back down, spilling her hair out on the pillow. Her beauty was different from Christine, a warm and welcomed different. I kissed her hand again and set her book in her arms, letting her pull the book to her chest and roll to her side.  
"Sleep well, mon cher…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello my readers and faithful follower! I know you are all curious as to what will happen next. Belle and her brothers have been rather happy at the Opera Garner, though Carlotta has a vendetta toward Belle. Now we get to see the phantom work is magical power of music over Belle, wooing and seducing her with, in my opinion, the most beautiful song Andrew Lloyd Webber or any other composer could ever write. As a general note, I do not own any of the original characters, (Erik, Madame, Meg, Carlotta and her posy) the only ones I lay claim to are my own characters. Please feel free to leave reviews, I could really use some feedback as to where I could improve the story. As a side note: I originally wrote this tale 4 years ago and it was purely from Belle's view, and just now have finally decided to publish it as a way to heal my troubled and hurting heart. I remain your obedient servant,**

 **~The Southern Rose.**

 **I wake from** my sleep with a knock at my door. I sit up and stretch out my tired body. Moving sets was beginning to take its toile on my small body. I swing my legs around when the knocking becomes more rapid and intense, like they were trying to break down my door. I crack it slightly to see Madame Giry tapping her cane impatiently.  
"Quickly dress and follow me. Your presence in required back stage." I cock my head to the side when I hear a shrill cry echo through the halls. _OH SHIT! I didn't get a chance to fix Carlotta's dress…._ Madame only gave a slight flinch at the diva's outburst. I nod my head and quickly change into my work clothes, running down the hall as I pull my thick hair up into a ballerina bun.  
"YOU!" the diva screams, pointing a finger at me. "You is the 'ittle rat who disn't fix me dress!" The managers were giving me mixed looks. One was trying to stab me with his eyes, the other was pleading with me to quickly fix the issue before things got worse, if they really could get worse.  
"My sincerest apologies Prima dona…" I curtied deeply. That earned me several swats with her primrose fan and more Spanish insults that I didn't want translated. She swatted me all the way to the costuming room, telling me EXACTLY what she wanted, then was whisked away by her posy of maids to rehears the opera. I made quick work of the dress, pricking my fingers several times and swearing under my breath. At least I was left to work alone, the absence of people relaxing. I could, however, sense a presence in the room watching me like an apparition. Once I finished the dress, I was very sure it weighed more than me, and hand enough pomp and circumstance and pink to woo the diva.  
"Now Belle, follow Meg to be fitted for your costume." Madam Giry said as she entered the room. Whatever apparition was watching me was gone as soon as Madame graced me with her presence  
"Wait! What do you mean costume?"  
"We need another dancer for the performance. One of the ballerinas broke her ankle yesterday at rehearsal and from, a reliable source, you will fit nicely with the theme." I followed her out, and made sure to shoot a look at Lukas, who was not surprised one bit, an evil grin on his face. I looked down at Conner. He was both happy and surprised. If looks could kill, Lukas would have died several times over. I felt Meg's hand reach for mine. She pulled me to the ballerina dressing room and pulled out the girl's costume that I was to replace. She gave it to me and told me to try it on.  
"Oh goodness, you are much shorter than I thought! The seamstress is going to have her work cut out for her trying to fix the costume. Here you can wear this while we rehearse. I hope it fits, Christine wore this several years ago, it's the only outfit I have that you might be able to wear." She handed me a dark colored ballerina's outfit. It fit me, but just barely, the fabric was loose in many places and I had to pin it to keep it from falling off. I wondered how ballerinas actually danced in something so awkward, then again, it was only awkward on me. For the rest of the afternoon, it was dancing, learning where not to be and adjusting to Carlotta's every move. She never really followed what the director said, more like he followed her. When it was all over, I went to see Lukas and Conner. Conner couldn't get over how different I looked in my ballerina outfit and Lukas was excited that, for once, I was doing something more 'lady like.' He always believed in the 'proper' way of society where women wore flowing dresses and played the piano and to his dismay, I only met one of those two qualities.  
"Ich bin begeistert, dass Sie immer eine Dame." He told me.  
"Ich wette Sie sind" I mocked. Conner tugged on my skirt, like usual asking what his older brother just said. I told him that Lukas was excited that I looked like a girl for once. Conner was smiling and he mouthed the word 'beautiful'. He tugged at my skirt again, holding the tulle in his hands and raising it up to me.  
"Oh, little Conner, I can't silly goose; a dress will get caught on the props when I move them." He frowned. I raised his chin up, made a pouting face, slowly turning into a smile. He began to giggle and Lukas laughed. They walked me to my room, Conner running around with delight. I kissed them both on their cheeks, making them squirm and shut the door. I lit a lamp and found my bed to be made and a single rose laying on top of my favorite book. Tied at the bottom was a black ribbon and a note underneath it.

 _Mon cher,  
You are quite the dancer, contrary to what you said the first time we met. I can't wait to see the final performance. I hope you find another costume to rehearse in. Seeing HER costume will not do well in MY opera house._

 _OG_.

I wondered what OG stood for. I shrugged it off, changed into comfier clothes and pulled out my flute. I ran a few scales then pulled out some of my father's music and began to play. I flashed back to when I was younger living in Austria. Father was teaching me to play one of my mother's favorite songs. Lukas was sitting by mother with his brand new violin.  
"Joseph my sweet, I have a wonderful surprise for you!" Mother waited until my awful playing was over. Lukas was 9 and I was 14 when Mother said she was pregnant again. Father rushed over to mother and kissed her, smiling from ear to ear. All I really knew was I was going to be a big sister, and for me that meant I was going to have a little sister, not another little brother. Soon after, we moved to London where Conner was born and Father was to play in Her Majesty's honored orchestra.

We were so happy, before that horrid drunkard took it all away from us. I opened my eyes and started to play it from memory. I could feel my long straight auburn hair getting caught on the chair. I reached for a ribbon but a voice stopped me.  
"Please don't." It was the man from the cave.  
"Don't do what?"  
"Pull your hair up. It's very lovely you know" I looked around to find where the voice was coming from. Then I saw him standing in the mirror. "Not many French women have Irish in their blood."  
"Forgive me Monsieur, but we can't keep meeting like this." I walked back to my case, set my flute down and grabbed my knife. I hid it in the secret pocket sewn into the back of my dress, shows how much I trust people. I turned to face the masked man in my mirror.  
"You are right. My name is Erik, mon cher." He said bowing deeply, then he opened the mirror. "You can put that knife away Mademoiselle…"  
"Belle. And my mother was Irish, my father Austrian" I backed away from him, the grip on my knife growing stronger.  
"I wish you no harm mon cher, I come here as a musician and teacher." He motioned to the mirror.  
"Come with me? I have something to show you and bring your flute." His hand pointed to the passageway behind my mirror. Curious, I packed up my flute and grabbed my cloak, tucking the knife away. Tying my hair up with the ribbon, I took his gloved hand and followed him down the passage. It was dimly lit and with small pieces of stone was everywhere. My hand tightened around his. As we walked, I wondered why he wore that mask, why he wore a cape everywhere he went, why was he living in a cave below the opera house?  
"Mon Cher, your curiosity is screaming, would you kindly" One of the stones was larger than expected, sending me stumbling into his back and both of us tumbling down the stairs and into the water. I swam to the surface and noticed that Erik wasn't there; come to think of it, he wasn't anywhere. I felt something tug at the end of my cloak, it was him! His cape had tangled. I pulled the knife from my dress and dove under water. I worked to cut his cape off and at the last possible second, he was free. We scrambled to the surface and gasped for air once we made it. "Good…thinking…Ma…Cherie." He managed to say. I pulled him from the water, something was missing, my flute! I looked around to see it on the step closest to the water. The strap that I used to put it around my body was broken. I opened the case, thinking it was broken, but it wasn't. I let out a sigh of relief. Erik gently grabbed my hand and let me to his hideaway via the boat. It was lit with the same tens of candle from the night we first met. Once we docked he helped me out and led me to his piano forte. Next to his piano was a chair and stand with music set on it. _Der Musik von der Nacht_ was printed in the same neat calligraphy as the note.  
"I didn't know you spoke" I looked behind me, but he wasn't there. I walked to the piano bench, set my instrument down and began to explore his world. He had only one mirror, and it was covered with a sheet. To the left of the piano was a hallway, with what looked like rooms. I took a candle from the large candelabra, put it in a holder and walked down the hall. There were rooms here, empty rooms that had only a sheet as a door, except three. One was locked, and the other was cracked slightly and was glowing from a candle, it must be Erik's. I took a step closer when the door closed. _Today my curiosity has gotten me in trouble._ I turned around and headed back to the main area. I wondered around, wringing out my dress and looking at the piles of music when I tripped over something; a piece of fabric. When I tugged on it, I found it was attached to something. I pulled back the curtain to reveal a yellowed dress. The dress looked to be a wedding dress, but scorched by the fire of the opera house. The strings of the corset were singed; the lace yellowed from heat, and both sleeves were burnt completely off. At one point in time it was the most beautiful thing made, now, it's pretty, but in a different way.  
"What are you doing?!" shouted Erik. I turned to see his face wide in shock and anger. He'd changed into a white sheer shirt, and black pants, a blanket in his hands. He marched over, shoved me to the floor and closed the curtain. "What do you think you were doing?!" his pale blue eyes engrossed in rage, the red of his face making his ghostly mask glow like the moon. "Some things down here are off limits!" His voice echoing off the walls, making him sound larger than what he is. I scrambled to my feet and ran to my flute and packed it in the case. I was about to leave when he grabbed my arm, making me flinch in fear and pain from our first night. "I'm sorry... It's just the memory of her is painful and I don't wanna bring it up again. I bought that for her, but she rejected me. I don't want it to happen to me, or anyone else." He let go and sank into a chair holding his face. I walked to where his music was and picked it up, reading it the powerful lyrics he had written. _  
Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation…_ The piece was full of lust and seduction, darkness and enchantment gracing the phrases. _Darkness stirs and wakes imagination._ Though his handwriting through the score contradicted the penmanship on the cover, it seemed to fit the style of song beautifully. He loved her, or at least lusted after her. Who wouldn't? Her voice was so pure and beautiful, and her physical beauty matched. Brown soft curls that cascaded like a waterfall down her back, gracing her porcelain skin and large, innocent chocolate eyes. _What I would give to have someone love me this much…_ I shook my head and tried to snap back into reality _You are too poor for such love, to poor and to stubborn._ I looked up from the score, his head still low.  
"Play this? For me…?" My heart fluttered at my words. He looked up, our eyes meeting. A seductive and confident smile graced his lips as he rose from his chair and came to my side.  
"Are you sure mon cher? Once the Phantom plays for you, you will never be able to resist me…" His hands somehow slide the score from mine and he placed the blanket on my shoulders. He sat down at his piano and began to play, beckoning me to his side. I turned slightly to find a comfortable spot on the bench. I'd never seen someone glide so smoothly over the keys, his arms defined, jaw set, eyes focused and intelligent looking. I'd never seen someone so dark, yet so nice, and so handsome. As the notes of the piece rang out, I could feel my heart fluttering uncontrollably. When it ended, my mind was transfixed on the beautiful melody, refusing to let go of it.  
"Monsieur, the music…it's so…" I looked up at him, he already knowing the end of my sentence. The same dark, seductive grin crossed his lips as he leaned in closer.  
"No one shall escape the spell of my music…" His breath on my cheek was hot, making me blush. "Not even a girl as cold as you…" he pulled away, his expression not changing. My heart was beating like the hooves of a race horse, my mind racing even faster. I couldn't tell whether to be enchanted by his music, or fearful of his body. He reached for my hand and kissed it softly. "Come my dear, you must return before you are missed." He guided me to the boat and back to my room. Before I entered my room I turned to ask him a question.  
"Monsieur, why do you treat me so?"  
"Treat you how my dear?"  
"Like a lady, you hardly know me." His face never changed; he took a breath and replied.  
"Whether you see it or not, you are indeed a lady, and in turn demand such respect. Now get some rest miss, you have long days ahead of you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello my faithful readers and followers! I am so sorry for the delay in posting, I have had a week to say the least! Very long and late hours at work plus my summer class. To make up for my delay, this chapter from Erik's view is kinda long. Just as a reminder, I do not own any of the Andrew Lloyd Webber or Gaston Leroux characters which include Carlotta, her posy, Madame Giry, Meg, the ballet corps, or Erik. I do lay claim to Belle, her brothers, Marie Foss (whom you will meet today) Christophe, and the managers. I love reviews and feedback, please don't feel shy or bad for reviewing something that you would like to see or needs to be changed. I remain your obedient servant,**

 **~The Southern Rose~**

I sit in my usual perch, watching Madame rehearse the ballet feature I pleasantly like in this opera, only because it gets to publically humiliate a certain Prima Donna who is well past her prime. The second in command ballerina, Marie Foss, was trying rather hard to truly made the diva mad, and from her years in my opera house, she has had much practice in the art. Her curly raven hair rivaled mine, but was as untamed as its owner. Sure she followed Madame's direction, but had a nasty habit of altering it during performance to make herself the star of the show. I regularly make my sentiments known to Antoinette about her ballet prima donna, but I always get the same reply  
"If I could, I would fire the ballet bitch, but then I would be left without the proper number of girls." Our conversation usually ends up in me pitying my second mother, and nodding in agreement. Today's rehearsal was no exception to Mademoiselle Foss's untamed persona. Though the ballet called for the trope of gypsies to rob the duchess of her jewels and finery, the rat was going beyond her calling. In all honesty, this was the only section of the opera I liked, mostly because of what voice it lacked. As it came to the brat's solo, the rest of the corps died back into the shadows, leaving her and her partner alone on stage. She came to a stop, the music continuing. _My favorite part, seeing Antoinette yell at the cheap floosy._ Madame slammed her cane on the floor, everyone freezing in place.  
"And what, pray tell, is wrong?! Everything was going smoothly! For once at least…" Her eyes shooting daggers Carlotta.  
"Madame someone has forgotten the chest!" I sat back in my seat and grinned like a cat. _Oh I know, I have safely hid it in obscurity…_ I can hear the two twits of the opera house scrambling out on stage and trying to calm the beginning storm. The prima donna is already about to explode from one reason or another.  
"What do you mean? I just put it behind the set last night!" one stagehand called out. Christophe was walking the catwalk above the stage, trying to get a phantom's eye view.  
"I don't see it from up here!" he called out. "All you stagehands scatter and find it! Or so help me I will hurt you all!" I laugh to myself, _you fools will never…_  
"Here it is! I nearly tripped over it on my way to the costuming room." A small female voice calls out, the fake jewels rattling through the stage. I leap to my feet and lean over the railing to see which little rat found it. She comes from backstage, the chest weighing as much as she does, her auburn hair already falling from her bun. _The little dancing girl from the street. She did say she was a stagehand…_ She brings the chest to center stage and drops it in a heap, echoing in the hall.  
"You wish to break my stage 'ittle…" suddenly Carlotta stopped mid insult, staring the girl down. "You is…a stagehand…?!" the diva broke into laughter, her posy of plump pomp and circumstance joining her. "Was ze matter, not good enough to tance? Or maybe you make money on ze side you 'ittle rat!" Her words like venom to the dancing girl. I could hear an orchestra member shouting something in gibberish, the maestro working hard to calm the boy down. She stood firm where she was, looking the prima beast in the eye.  
"At least they make me offers. Without your corset you would be another squealing pig wandering the streets of Paris!" She turned on her heal and marched off, leaving the diva speechless. _It looks like our little dancing girl is quite the ball of fire behind her quiet façade._ I grin madly and make my way to the catwalks. I want to take advantage of this fiery situation while things are still hot. By the time I arrive the ballet it already in full swing, the chest in its proper place and the solo about to begin. I position a sandbag above the wild child Foss and wait for the perfect timing. _Just a few more measures and…_ before I can let go she crumbles in a heap and screams, holding tight to her ankle. I pull the sandbag back and tie it back to the wall. _What a curious development this is…_ the brat's partner scooped her up and pulled her off stage. Madame looked both annoyed and relieved at the girl's accident. She looks up to me, her brown eyes piercing my black soul. I shook my head, I had nothing to do with it, though I wish I did. She walked to the stage and picked up a small pearl from one of the fake pieces in the chest. I couldn't help but let out a bold laugh, her cockiness was her own demise.  
"Alright girls, have your costumes ready for the girl to come by and pick up and alter if need be, then I guess you all can have the day off. The little dancing girl comes back, paint smeared on her face as she is swarmed by ballerinas in need of altering.  
"My skirt needs to be shorter!" one cried out.  
"And mine is to tight!"  
"My costume is to big you dunce!" _It wasn't her fault; they came in general sizes. That is what an alteration girl is for!_ I rolled my eyes as the mob of women slid backstage. I used a sandbag and lowered myself behind Madame, making sure to bow.  
"Greeting Madame…your ballet corps looks very well today…"  
"And I am to assume that this little stunt was not of your doing?" she held up the faux pearl. I shook my head.  
"As much as I wish I could claim this accident, the cocky brat brought it upon herself; but fret not Madame, I know of a replacement for the wretch." She raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms and waiting for my grand scheme. "The costume girl. I have seen her dance on street with her brothers and for this opera, she will serve well as a replacement." Her finger idly tapped her arm as she pondered my suggestion. She closed her eyes and sighed, nodding her head. I bowed again and left the stage, almost happy for once. I returned to the catwalks before anyone discovered me. Most of the cast and help had left for the night, only a single flame awake in the early evening. The head seamstress was giving the dancing girl a list of things to accomplish before the morning. The girl simply nodded her head, gave the occasional 'oui madame' when needed. The plump seamstress soon left, a bottle in her hand as she walked out. The girl let out a long sigh as she looked over her work; ballerina costumes, actor and actress, and the grand dress of diva. Her brothers soon joined her, the youngest smiling from ear to ear. She ruffled his hair and kissed his nose. The elder of the brothers hugged his sister and tapped his brother on the shoulder, the two of them showing off their duet for the opera while she worked. I watched the little family interact, the elder boy trying for the first time to speak French. The younger one understood the French language, but never said a word. The clock in the grand hall sounded it was 15 after 11. She rose from her chair, her work complete, and helped the elder brother with the younger one. She kissed them both, one being fast asleep in his brother's arms, and bid them goodnight. I could hear the girl humming as she returned to her room, her voice soft like an angel…a rich tone, much lower than Christine's range but still a soprano none the less. I returned to my home below, my thoughts wandering back to the girl. _Such an interesting girl, not like most of the girls in my opera house. There are 2 kinds of girls; the drunk and loose, or dainty and frail…_ then it hit me; I don't even know the girl's name! That night I slept deeply for the first time since…dare I say her name. My dreams wandered over names for the little dancing girl; Marie was to typical, Elizabeth was to plain, and heaven forbid it was something lavish like Kathryn Abigail or something else with two first names. It had to be simple, yet extra…  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ME DRESS ISNT FIXED?!" the screech of the banshee ripping me from my sleep. I don't think Carlotta has ever been so upset, and she hasn't let out a scream from hell like that since I had her 'replaced'. I quickly dressed, leaving my cape behind and rushed to the surface. Whatever had the diva in a whirlwind I must see for myself. I arrive to my box to see the two twits, the diva, Antoinette, and the dancing girl all on stage.  
"YOU!" the diva screams, pointing a finger at the girl "YOU is the 'ittle RAT who disn't fix me DRESS!" The two twist rushed to the diva's side and tried to calm her.  
"My sincerest apologies Prima Donna…" she gave a deep curtsy, trying to show her remorse. The only response the diva gave were several swats with her fan, pushing the girl back to the costuming room and yelling in Spanish the whole way there. She then screamed her orders to the girl, waving her fan around like a conductor, then scurried off with her plump posy to 'more important' things. I quickly left the box, wanting to get closer to the girl. She was sitting outside the stuffy costume room, schemes of fabric strewn about with the diva's dress on a (dress holder thing). I descended from the catwalks and stood in the shadows of the costuming room.  
"Damnit! That pompous prima donna…." The girl swore softly and she put her finger in her mouth. She was working quickly to coddle the crying infant before things could get worse. "Shit!" she swore again, ripping out the stitching and having to do it again. I stepped forward when my foot kicked something, causing the girl to sit up and look around. I looked down to see her thimble. _No wonder she kept sticking herself…_ I picked it up, how small the thimble was, even for a girl. _Her hands are smaller than I remember…so petite…like her body…_ I slapped my mind. How could I think such a thing? I looked up to see the girl being led away by Madame, something about a costume. The dress was very impressive, large and pink enough to soothe the savage soprano. I followed the pair in the shadows, then came to Madame's side once the girl had gone. She looked at me and sighed  
"I hope you are right about this mon cher…" she said, putting a hand to my arm. I took her hand and kissed it, my reassurance to her.  
"Madame, would you mind getting me some pins? Christine's old outfit is much too big for me…"  
"Oiu Mon cher, just a moment." She looked at me curiously, then fetched the pins for the girl. "Here you are…what is your name mon cher?" there was silence for a few moments before the girl stepped out in Christine's old outfit. My blood boiled at the sight of her outfit…if the girl said her name, I must have missed it. I stormed off to my box, wishing to be far away from anything that belonged to that back stabber…I watched the girl dance with the rest of the ballerinas; fitting in beautifully and standing out among them all. She was the only one with auburn hair, all the others were black or brown, the occasional blonde shining through. She bumped into another ballerina and immediately started to spew apologies, catching the girls off guard from the insults that Carlotta threw all through the rehearsal. Once the diva had enough for the day, she just walked off stage, leaving everyone else behind. Madame dismissed the ballerinas, most of them scurrying back to their dorms, the little rats. I too left, wishing to leave the little dancing girl a note, my preferred way of communication. I 'borrowed' a piece of parchment from the managers, using my best penmanship, and wrote the girl, making sure my sentiments were known about her rehearsal appearance. I turned to leave when I saw a rose Carlotta had tossed out. It was red, the color of love and lust... I picked up the fresh flower and tied a black ribbon below it, old habits do die hard. I returned to her room and set them atop her book and went through the mirror. I stood just beyond the other side and waited for the girl to return, which wasn't long thank heaven. She instantly found my note and gift. She took a deep smell of the delicate flower and read over my note. She seemed lost in thought, then came back and shook her head. Ducking behind her screen, she changed into a dress. _I didn't think the girl had one…I am glad for once to be wrong._ The girl pulled her hair down, letting it fall like rain down her shoulders and back, stopping just above her lower back. From under her bed she pulled out an instrument, a flute! One of my personal favorites besides my piano forte. Her tone was beautiful, it floated through the passageway behind me and breathed life into the old burned walls. _I could listen to her for hours…and look at her even longer. Those blue eyes…blue like a running brook…_ my thoughts were cut by her blipping a note. Her hand went to her hair, which was catching on the back of the chair. I could see her reaching for the ribbon.  
"Please don't!" I stood dead still, contemplating weather I was thinking loudly or I had given the girl an order.  
"Don't do what?" her response confirming my suspicion. She didn't seem afraid of me.  
"Pull up your hair. It's quite lovely you know." She stood from her chair, the ribbon falling to the floor as she looked around for me. I grinned and stepped into the light of her candle. "Not many French women have Irish in their blood." She backed away from me, putting her flute in its case and grabbing a knife from her dresser.  
"You are quite right. My name is Erik, mon cher." I move the mirror aside and step through, bowing deeply to the girl. I shake my head at her trying to hide a knife behind her. "You can put that knife away Mademoiselle…" I trail off, waiting for her to state her name.  
"Belle, and my mother is Irish, but my father was Austrian, not French." _Belle…what a perfect name for such a beautiful creature…_ She backs away from me still, a side effect of living on the streets.  
"I wish you know harm mon cher, I come as a musician and a teacher. Come with me?" I beckon to the mirror behind me "I wish to show you something, and bring you flute, it will add well to my arrangement." The girl seemed intrigued, for she packs her things and follows me. To my dismay she has tied her hair back, but her hand in mine has made up for it. I have not taken the mirror path regularly since I burned down the opera house, and there are many loose stones along the path I have long forgotten about. I feel her loose her footing, gripping my hand tighter and moving closer to me. I smile, but it is short lived. I look down to see her staring at my mask and my cape and I was very sure she had many more questions running through her mind. I roll my eyes and close them in frustration "Mon cher, your curiosity is deafening, would you kindly." I feel her body slam into mine, sending both of us down the stairs and into the fridge lake. _Geez, she's heavier than she looks!_ I go to swim after her when I feel my cape tighten around my throat. I see it is caught on the spike of the gate. I reach out and grab her cloak, hoping she could help. I see her dive back under and pull the knife she was clinging to earlier. She quickly cuts my cloak off and helps me to the surface and then out of the water. I stay on all fours, heaving up water from my lungs while she runs off. I make sure my mask is in place before standing up to see where she ran off to. She was up the stairs a few steps from the bottom checking on her flute case. I smile and walk to her, gently taking her hand in mine and leading her to the boat like I once did with Christine... how I wished I could get that cursed woman out of my head. I ferry her across the lake and lead her to my piano, an old piece of mine waiting for new life that only she could give. I leave her briefly to change from my wet clothes. I slip into something comfortable, my simple sheer shirt and trousers. Before leaving I grab a blanked from the wardrobe, the girl must be cold with her soaking wet clothes. I leave my room and come around the corner, the girl wandering around my home. _Quite the curious little thing…_ my mind wanders as she does, _such an interesting girl…such beauty…so much more than Christine could ever hope to have._ I see the sheet covering the wedding gown I had made for Christine come flying off, exposing the burned dress. She ran her hands over the burned and yellowed lace and silk. My anger grows inside, my hand shaking. I storm over and shout with all I have  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I shove the girl to the floor, my mind racing back to the night she left me for that rich fop. "There are things that are OFF LIMITS DOWN HERE!" I hear her scrambling to get up and run off. I can't let her go, not another one… I grab her arm, my mind finally coming off of its rage. "I'm sorry…It's just the memory of her is painful and I wish not to bring it back up again." I feel her tension ease slightly in my grip. "I bought that for her, but she rejected me…I don't want it to happen to me, or anyone else..." I sank into the chair next to the dress, resting my face in my hands. _How could I have been so stupid! Why did I keep that cursed dress?!_ I run my hands through my hair and sigh. Her footsteps echo through the living area. _There she goes you imbecile, your last chance at love and you threw it away!_ I open my eyes... _did I just say… yes I think I did, I think I love this girl… at least like her…_ I hear a soft voice.  
"Play this? For me…?" I looked up to see Belle standing with the composition in her hand, her eyes locked on me. She wanted me…no one could deny that look. I give her a seductive and confident grin as I rise from my chair and cross the room to my piano.  
"Are you sure mon cher? Once the Phantom plays for you, you will never be able to resist me…" Her beautiful eyes were locked with mine, begging for my music. I slide the score from her hands and slip the blanket over her shivering shoulders. My confidence was beaming; I was on top of the world. I motioned for her to sit at my side, taking her hand and pulling her to me. I glide effortlessly over my piano forte, playing and singing my work that I once wrote for Christine. I didn't give a damn about that little rat any longer. I played my heart out, the ending of the piece echoing beautifully through my abode. I looked over at the girl, her eyes wide with enchantment.  
"Monsieur, the music…it's so…" she was at a loss for words. I gave her a dark, seductive and enchanting grin. I leaned in closer to her, how I longed to kiss her, hold her…have her…  
"No one shall escape my music…not even a girl as cold as you…" I pulled away, her cheeks red like the rose. I took her hand and kissed it softly, the roughness almost tantalizing to my lips. "Come my dear, you must return before you are missed." I helped her up and back into the boat, her hair had fallen from its ribbon, framing her porcelain face and casting a shadow in the candlelight. I escorted her back to the mirror, I bid her goodnight before she asked a peculiar question.  
"Monsieur, why do you treat me so?" I turn in to face the girl.  
"Treat you how my dear?"  
"Like a lady; you hardly know me yet you woo me with your beautiful music…" the heat rises in her cheeks again. I keep a straight face, trying not to force my lips upon this enchanting creature.  
"Whether you see it or not, you are indeed a lady Mademoiselle Belle, and in turn demand such respect. Now get some rest, you have long days ahead of you." I step closer and plant a kiss on her forehead, her skin soft like a rose petal. _Erik you are going to have to keep yourself in check around the girl…_ then I close the mirror behind me, a small smile rising in my cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

**For the next few weeks** , I visited the Phantom and he taught me more and more on his piano, and once tried to get me to sing, which was out of the question. With each visit, we began to learn more and more about each other. His lair was less a lair and more a place of refuge from the nightmare that was Carlotta. The weeks grew longer and longer as I was pulling triple duty as dancer, stagehand and seamstress and tonight was no exception. Today was probably the longest day of work I ever encountered at the opera house. My feet were blistered from the warn ballet slippers Meg let me borrow with Madame Giry promising proper fitting slippers later. My body ached from moving sets and dancing and old calluses on my hands had opened up again. If this was what hell was like, I was very glad my fate lied in the other direction; and if it didn't, my training would serve me well. I put Conner to bed and dragged myself to my room, grateful I had been given the day off.  
"If I may say so my dear, you look like hell." The Phantom was waiting in my room, a concerned smile on his face. He crossed the room in stride.  
"Who me? I'm fine Monsieur, really I am…" Erik shook his head. He handed me my nightgown.  
"You can either change now, or wait. I didn't 'persuade' Badeaux and Leroux to give you the day off for nothing. You will rest in my care." I looked up to protest, but he simply put a gloved finger to my dry lips. "I will not take no for an answer mon cher." His eyes capturing mine in a threatening stare. Sighing, I ducked behind my divider and slipped my gown on. The softness was soothing to my skin as I came out. Erik wrapped my cloak around me, left a note for anyone looking for me, and moved the mirror for our journey.  
"Monsieur I can't…" my legs quickly gave way. My arm went around Erik's neck as I fell. His arm easily reached around my waist as I fell into his chest. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes were locked with his. Without breaking our trans, he let go of my hand and scooped me up in his arms. I wrapped my other arm around his neck as he began to descend the staircase and to the boat. He lowered me in and smiled, kissing my hand.  
"Monsieur, your glove…" it was stained red. I turned my hand over to see a shallow cut. "I am so sorry…I will wash it and have it cleaned out once we arrive." He said not a word, but ferried the boat over the lake. I lowered my head and tried to keep from touching anything. The ride seemed to last longer than ever. The boat tapped the edge of his abode, our signal we had arrived. Giving him my other hand, I tried my best to help myself out of the boat. "Hand me your glove Monsieur and" but he put a finger to my mouth.  
"Please, my name is Erik. You need not be so formal around me, and as for my glove, you need not trouble yourself. I have many." He gathered me in his arms and carried me to a large chamber, in my opinion it was fit for royalty. The bed was round, and had the shape of a swan. The sheets were red like crimson and black lace wrapped around the bed for minimal privacy. Erik carried me to a small couch close to the bed and set me down. It was plush and soft with silk pillows as décor. "Believe it or not, Carlotta refused this couch because it was red, not pink. So it 'disappeared' along with many other things not to her liking." I let out a soft giggle, causing him to smile.  
"You little thief!" I sarcastically called him. A dark grin graced his lips.  
"I prefer the term…repurposing…" He disappeared behind a divider and changed, his toned body more apparent, black pants and a white sheer shirt being his choice of comfort. I lay on couch as he walks around gathering bottles and jars with unknown contents. I watch his flawless gate march back and forth, letting it lull me to sleep. "Belle, please wake up." I stir to see him sitting beside me, his hand on my shoulder  
"Yes? I'm sorry I fell asleep…"  
"Hush with all these apologies. A warm bath waiting for you, please undress and soak in it for a while. I will call out when I am ready for you." I nodded my head and gave a weary smile. As I got up, I kissed his good cheek and slipped behind the divider. I peered around the corner, Erik was still sitting on the sofa, his hand on his face. _Wait a minute, his he…blushing?!_ His head snapped toward me as I sighed; my eyes went wide and I quickly disappeared back behind the divider. The water was warm and smelled like lavender, my favorite. I rinsed away the day and washed my long hair, leaving behind many flakes of wood shavings and heavy stage makeup. He called for me to get out and dress, which I complied with. He came around the divider once I had dressed and carried me to his bed. The sheets were silk, real silk from China.  
"I have never felt such softness and smoothness…they are beautiful Erik…" He smiled and kissed my hand again  
"I am glad you enjoy then my dear, you shall sleep well in their comfort." He reached for my foot, which I quickly pulled away.  
"What…what are you doing?" I asked, hiding my feet in my nightgown.  
"Very simple, I am helping them heal, just like I will do with your hands and your back if you will allow me to do such."  
"Why? They are fine…" His face gave me the same look from earlier in the evening.  
"Your hand was bleeding and your feet are covered in blisters. You work too hard my dear and need to take it easy and heal your body and will not take no as an answer..." his voice almost growling at the end of his assertion. I closed my eyes and pushed my feet away from me. He gently took one and softly spread a cream on them, then rubbed it. A soft, satisfying, almost helpless sigh left my lips as he worked on them, his eyes meeting mine instantly. I blushed and looked away, trying not to be so helpless as he grinned with pride. My hands were next; he sat next to me on the bed, I moved as close as I could to him.  
"Thank you Erik, for all of this…" I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "If you don't mind, I will make myself at home on your couch." His hand tightened around my arm as I tried to rise from the bed.  
"You will do no such thing, you will sleep here in my bed, I will take the couch." Too tired to argue, I lay back in his bed. He pulled the sheets around me and smiled, kissing my cheek daintily.  
"Erik…?" He turned, taking his shirt off.  
"Yes my dear?" a seductive yet playful grin on his face. My face became red as the sheets that covered me.  
"Sleep beside me… please?" His grin became wider, almost as if he knew his plan had worked. He crawled in the bed beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist. No quicker than he whispered goodnight did I fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello readers! In honor of my new little niece I have decided to post 2 chapters today instead of one. I hope you all enjoy! Get ready for the story to take a dire twist after these two chapters, for Belle's past will come back to haunt her. Will she survive? Or will her life be the payment to set her brother's free of debt. I remain your obedient servent,**

 **~The Southern Rose~**

I looked forward to Belle's visits after work; her presence brought music to my ears I have not heard since Christine... I shake the thought from my head. I burned the dress I bought her; she was my past and for the first time in years, I was looking forward. I hoped it would have auburn hair and beautiful blue eyes.  
"How did I do?" I look over at Belle, breaking my daydream. I smiled and corrected her mistakes, the fire in her eyes to get every note perfect made my insides flutter. I sat next to her on my piano stool, letting her have the one from years past that I should have turned into kindling. Her playing began to rival mine with every lesson we had, what once was good was now grand.  
"Much better mademoiselle, now on to your dancing lessons." _One day I want to make her a star, not just another dancing rat, but a beautiful angel…_ She sighed deeply and stood slowly.  
"I don't mean to be rude, but can't we skip the dancing lesson for today…" she trailed off. She had promising talent, but it would not be enough to live up to Madame's standards. I shook my head and took her hand.  
"There is no rest for the weary, mon cher, you need to catch up to the girls who have been trained for years. Talent alone will not help you now." I lead her to the center of the living area and let her put on her slippers. "Now, from the top of your solo mademoiselle." I walked back to the piano and begin her melody. She assumes her starting position, then quickly rises to her toes and begins to dance. She skips around my living area, the solo being simple at the start. Soon the others ballerinas are to bring a chest, Carlotta's things inside as the encircle her while Belle dances. She leaps up into the splits, which was nearly perfect and lands without a fault. I smile as she continues, focused on the dance and lost in the music. She kicks one leg out and spins forward, inching toward the chest before stopping. She slowly brings her right leg up beside her, then slides it back as she balances on her toes and leans forward. She is to lean on the chest for balance, but I wish to push her and make her balance on her own. She eases her leg back and leans forward, her arms out. _Just a little further…_  
"Ompf!" she falls flat of her chest, knocking the wind out of her. I push my bench away and come to her side.  
"Are you alright?" She nods her head as she takes short, shallow breaths. I help her to her feet and kiss her forehead "Enough for tonight. You need to rest before rehearsal tomorrow." She gives me a pained smile, holding her core. I take her hand and begin to lead her to the boat. She is slow to follow, an arm still at her core. I sweep her into my arms and carry her to the boat. She had gotten a little lighter since she started to dance. What was left of the little fat on her body has been melted away and turned into muscle. I put her in the boat and row across the lake, softly singing my latest piece. We dock and she doesn't move, already fast asleep. _Oh little Belle, soon I will help you rest like you need…_ I softly pick her up and carry her up the stairs and into her bedroom. The hour was later than I realized, past midnight. I took her slippers off and set her in bed, kissing her forehead before I left. Our meetings continued like this for weeks, each day she grew stronger, and more exhausted. One evening when I carried her to bed, her feet were covered in blisters.

"Give the girl a day off!" I had barged into the manager's office. I scared both of them beyond the point of being pail. They shot up from their desks, where the properly belong.  
"But she is needed if we are to pull of this production. The head seamstress has all but quit because of Carlotta, and the girl is the only one who will" I cut Leroux off  
"If you would have FIRED the Spanish pig like I TOLD YOU, we wouldn't have this issue, now would we…" Badeaux opened his mouth to speak, but my glare silenced him. "You will give her tomorrow off, that is not a request. And after this performance, you will FIRE the damned diva or so help me…" the twits nodded their heads in agreement, the only thing they could do right. I stormed out of their office and back to my box to oversee rehearsal. Today, Belle was a stagehand and a ballerina. She was moving props one scene and dancing in the next. She moved well with the corps, our lessons doing her much good. Madame released them to take a break as she made her way to maestro Cadenza to discuss the ballet feature. Belle quickly took off the slippers, rubbing her feet and nearly in tears.  
"Meg, as grateful as I am for these, how much longer will it take your mother to get me new ones… my feet are starting to bleed…" The blonde bobbed to Belle's side and examined the slippers.  
"It shouldn't be too much longer, I know they are awful, they were my old ones from when I was young. I am truly sorry about your feet…" the tap of a cane bringing everyone back to their positions. The rehearsal dragged on, as it always did when Madame was not happy with the performance of her girls.  
"That will be enough for today, but be ready for an early rehearsal! The opera is just 2 weeks away!" The twits came on the stage, handing Belle a note saying she had the next day off and to rest. She sighed in relief, but not before her brothers came on stage, she gave a weak smile and followed them. I quickly left and waited for her in her room, ready to put my plan into action. She was an hour returning, my patience wearing thing. She practically had to drag herself into her room, using the door as a leaning post.  
"If I may say so my dear, you look like hell." Her head lifted up, a lifeless smile greeting me.  
"Who me? I'm fine Monsieur, really I am…" I shook my head as I handed her the nightgown I gave her.  
"You can either change now or wait until we arrive at my home. I didn't 'persuade' those twits to give you the day off for nothing, you will rest in my care." She started to protest, but I put a finger to her lips. "And I will not take no for an answer mon cher…" I locked my eyes with hers, daring her to protest again. She sighed and stepped behind the screen, then coming back in the white silky fabric. I smiled and wrapped her cloak around her, her shoulders nearly caving under its feather like weight. I took her hand and led her through the mirror before she called out to me, saying something before her legs buckled. I turned and caught her, my arm easily reaching around her as her arm went around my neck. Her cheeks turned the color of scarlet as I scooped her in my arms and carried her down to the boat. I set her on the ground while I got into the boat, helping her in.  
"Monsieur, your glove…" I looked at the back of my hand to see the black leather now stained with red from her hand; she began to spew an apology about the glove but I remained silent as I ferried us across the lake. She tried to offer to wash my glove, calling me Monsieur once again. I put a finger to her lips again.  
"Please, my name is Erik. You need not be so formal around me, and as for my glove, don't trouble yourself. I have many just like it." The reassurance seemed to calm her, for she settled nicely in my arms as I carried her to my chambers. Her eyes were wide like a child at Christmas. I set her on the couch I 'borrowed' from Carlotta. "Believe it or not, Carlotta refused this couch because it was not pink. So I made it 'disappear' along with many other things not to her liking." Her giggle was like an angel  
"You little thief!" I laughed as my dark grin came forward  
"I prefer the term…repurposing…" I left Belle on the couch so I could change into my sheer shirt and pants. I walked back and forth from my cabinet to my tub, running her a hot bath with my own concoction of oils. I look over to the couch, Belle asleep. I sit at her side on the couch, placing a gentle hand to her shoulder. "Belle, please wake up mon Cherie.." She stirs softly and sits up.  
"Yes Erik? I'm sorry I must have fallen asleep…" I shake my head  
"Hush with all these apologies. A warm bath is waiting for you, please undress and soak away your day. I will call for you when I am ready." She nods and slowly rises from the couch, making sure to kiss my good cheek before hiding behind the screen. _She…kissed me…_ my pale completion now scarlet. I hear a small sigh and turn toward the screen, only to see a flash of white duck behind it. I quickly made my messy bed, arranging the throw pillows as best I could. I never saw to make my bed. I was the only one to sleep in it and this was the first time I had company since her… I called to Belle, the thought of her without her nightgown making my cheeks flush and my pants uncomfortable. Her hair was down, just how I liked it, as I picked her up and brought her to my bed. Her hands brushed over my sheets, like she had never felt silk before.  
"I have never felt such softness and smoothness… they are beautiful Erik…" _I love my name when she says it…_ I kissed her hand softly, my favorite endearment, next to kissing her forehead.  
"I am glad you enjoy them my dear, you shall sleep well in their comfort." I gave a smile as I reached for her foot, wish was quickly yanked from my now bare hands. She slid her feet under the oversized gown, almost afraid of my touch. I promised her I wanted nothing more than to help them heal, for they were callused and blistered. She protested once again. I could feel my anger and frustration rising in my voice. "You work too hard my dear and need to take it easy, and I WILL not take no for an answer…" I could feel the growl in my voice. She closed her eyes and sighed, pushing her tiny feet to me. I quickly took it in my hand and began to rub a cream the Persian once gave me, the girl gave a soft, satisfying and almost helpless sigh as I worked on her feet. My eyes met hers as I grinned with pride, she needed this if she were to continue her jobs as dancer, stagehand and seamstress. I then took her hands in mine as I sat next to her on the bed. She moved as close to me as possible, her body fitting perfectly with mine. Once I finished, she kissed my masked cheek and rose from the bed.  
"Thank you Erik, for all of this. Now if you don't mind, I will make myself at home on your couch." I gripped her arm tightly, a small squeak escaping her lips.  
"You will do no such thing. You shall sleep in my bed and I shall take the couch." She yawned as I pulled her back to the bed. She laid back and let me pull the sheets to her, I then stood and smiled, then slowly leaned in and kissed her cheek, her skin like velvet under my lips. I turn to leave, pulling my shirt off when a soft voice catches my ear  
"Erik…?" I turn back to Belle, who was blushing hard. I grin playfully, wishing I could just take her now.  
"Yes my dear?"  
"Sleep beside me…Please?" _Dear Lord above Belle, if only you knew the power of your spell over me…_ My grin grew wider as I crawled in bed beside her, letting her role to her side as I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist. I kissed her forehead and whispered a goodnight, her eyes already closed deep in sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Bonjour/ Guten Abend my readers! Chapter 9 is here and ready to send your hearts racing. Belle's past with catch up to her and knock her for a loop! I hope you will leave me reviews and comments so I may better the story for you all. I remain your obedient servant,  
~The Southern Rose~**

My 23st birthday was just around the corner and although I knew Erik had something up his sleeve for me, he refused to tell me what it was. He said I would need to wait until the night of the performance. The air grew colder and colder until the first snow of winter fell, which according to Lukas, is a sign of good luck.  
"Es it ein Zeichen für Glücken." Lukas said as he tuned his violin. Tonight is the night of the performance and my chance to shine. "Wo ist Conner?" Good question, where was Conner? The orchestra needed to be in their seats ready to go in ten minutes. The door flew open and there was Conner, holding a cloth to his nose.  
"Was ist passiert zu du?!"  
"Yes Conner, what did happen to you?"  
I moved the cloth from his face, which was spotted with blood and his eyes were welling up with tears. It had stopped bleeding, for the most part. When I touched it he didn't flinch, which was a good sign that it wasn't broken. I walked over to the wash basin, rung out the cloth, and cleaned up his face. He made the motion that he was walking outside when someone asked him about me and his brother. When he didn't answer, which he can't even if he wanted to, the man apparently introduced him to his hand.  
"Did you recognize him?" I asked. He shook his head, and motioned to the money in his hand. None of us understood what he was trying to tell us, so he mouthed the name, Foss. I froze. What would he want with us? We paid him what father owed plus interest. I shook it off; we had a performance to do. I cleaned his face, handed him his violin and gave each of them a kiss for luck as I walked to my room to change. I locked the door and turned on my music box. I grabbed my costume and laid it out on the bed when I saw something move in the shadows.  
"Well Mademoiselle, you've certainly moved up in the world." it was Monsieur Foss. He walked closer "Is the pay here good?" I walked away quickly.  
"How did you get in here?!" I snarled.  
"Well Mademoiselle, you still owe me for your father's debts."  
"No we don't. I've kept track of all the monthly payments plus the interest. That payment we gave you many months ago was not the last." I walked to my dresser to show him the ledger. He slammed the drawer closed, pinning me to the dresser.  
"I see you're a smart woman. I like smart women." He began to kiss my hair. "I know one way you can pay me." He spoke softly and reached around my waist and pulled me to face him. I slapped him across the face, my nails leaving a shallow mark.  
"How dare you! I'm not that kind of girl, now get out." My voice cold. He didn't seem to hear what I said.  
"Oh I think you are." He reached for me again.  
"Touch her again sir, and you will have to answer to me." The voice boomed and filled the room. That got his attention.  
"Well Mademoiselle, until next time." He bowed, unlocked the door and left. Erik burst from behind the mirror.  
"Who was that man?! I will hang him like the dirty lowlife he is…" His face glowed like an ember against is ghostly mask. I take his hand in mine and kiss his cheek.  
"I'll explain later I'm late as is." He nodded and placed a long kiss upon my forehead before disappeared into the shadow of the passageway. Changing quickly, I didn't have time to put my hair up or do my makeup. I made it just as Madam Giry was calling role.  
"It's about time you showed up." She said coldly. I saw Meg walk to my side.  
"Don't mind her; she always is tense around performance. Come with me, I'll help you do your makeup." My new best friend, for if it weren't for her, I'd be without makeup and on her mom's bad side. When she finished, I looked completely different. My skin was flawless, lips redder than a rose, and my eyes were the focus of the whole thing, they were blue like dark topaz. "You look just like a gypsy, but much prettier." Meg complemented. We could hear Carlotta warming up and that was our queue to get warmed up. All throughout the performance I kept looking at Lukas and Conner. They seemed to be so happy playing in the orchestra. In one part of the play, Lukas had a small solo and they sounded beautiful in their duet. I also was looking for Erik in the crowd, and if he was there, he was hiding very well. Now it was time for my featured part. People had seen me in the background and occasionally pestering Carlotta. After all, what else do gypsies do with someone they don't like? The music began, the ballerinas were in a circle, blocking everyone's view of me, then when the first fortissimo came, they broke apart to reveal a beautiful gypsy dancer. I was lighter on my feet than the snow falling outside. I slowly rise to my toes in time with the maestro and began to leap and twirl about, my ribbon creating beautiful circles around me. Soon the rest of the corps brought the chest forward, symbolizing what they had stolen from the duchess. They soon go to circle Carlotta, their scarves connecting them as they rounded her. I gave the audience a grin, leaping over the box in a perfect split, landing without a hitch. I twirl back to the chest, getting faster as the music demanded before stopping just in front of the chest. I took a deep breath and instead of using the chest for balance, I took a step on the chest and balanced on top of it. _Just like Erik taught you… tight muscles and for heaven sake BREATHE!_ I kick my foot out to the side, the slowly bring it behind me as my arm extend out to the crowd. I waver slightly, but maintain my balance. I bring my leg back and flip off the chest, kicking my leg out as I twirl in time to the music, ending on the maestro's command. The curtain closed and the crowd went crazy, cheering and clapping. At the curtain call, I received a larger applause that Señoria Carlotta. Backstage, we could hear her raving about how something wasn't to her liking, which we all were pretty sure was my fault. Lukas and Conner rushed backstage to hug me and tell me how well I did, and didn't hold back the part about me looking pretty in the gypsy costume and how I was finally wearing makeup. I told them both goodnight and that tomorrow, we'd go out and celebrate the success of the opera. I took off my slippers and walked barefooted back to my room. I made sure I was alone before I locked my door. I turned on my music box and this time, I chose a different song when I heard a knock at my door. I opened it, but no one was there, then the knock started again.  
"Over here silly girl." It was Erik standing in his finest at my mirror. His smile was bigger than the stage and he has something behind his back. He moved the mirror then handed me a small box. "Yes, it's for you Ma Cherie. I noticed that it was dirty so I had Badeaux take it to the jewelers and have it cleaned. It arrived as the play was beginning." I opened it to find my mother's silver necklace sitting inside. It was simple, but I loved it. We were born in December so Father had it made with her initials were on one side of the pendant and mine on the other. In the center was a crystal blue stone. I was dumbfounded, it shown like the Christmas star. My eyes kept flitting between the necklace and Erik. He finally took it from my hands and put it on me. "You were wonderful tonight. No matter what you say, you really can dance. Follow me. I have something else for you." I let go long enough to put my slippers back on. He helped me into the boat and he rowed to his hideaway. When we got there, only one candle was lit and though it was doing its job, it wasn't giving of much light. He got out but I wasn't going with him anytime soon. "It's ok, just take my hand," the light reflecting off his mask, his dark, seductive smile making my soul melt. I gave him my hand and I let him pull me out of the boat, my eyes never wavering from his. We walked to the candle and, using the torch to light the rest, the real reason came to light. The picture frame I gave away the night we got the jobs in the opera house! _It was him that I gave it to, I guess the world is smaller than we realize…_ inside the frame was a sketch. The sketch was not what I expected; it was me with my hair down, looking in the distance, lost in thought and a book in my hand.  
"Did you draw this…?" the sketch was very detailed, from the part in my hair to the few faint freckles on my cheeks. I looked up from the detailed drawing, his face beaming with pride.  
"But of course mon Cherie, I am an artist. Not just with music, but an artist with drawing."  
"I don't get it." He took the picture from my hands.  
"This is how I see you. Not as a worker with callused hands or a ballerina with makeup and costumes, but an intelligent girl with beauty beneath the surface. I see charm that lasts for more than a moment, whit that would make anyone laugh, and a heart full of bravery. You put others first and yourself last, and this time I wanted you to feel what it's like to be in the limelight." I was speechless. _Did he…love me…?_ My heart was racing, our eyes locked and he took my hand and drew me close to him. He took my small face in his hands and kissed me softly as not to break this piece of fine China. He pulled away. My mind was racing like a spooked horse, screaming like a giddy school girl. _HE LOVES ME! I wonder how far I can take this…_  
"I may be a dancer, but I'm not that dainty." A smile played across his face as he picked me up and embraced me in a breath taking, passionate kiss. I wrapped my legs around his torso as he slowly pressed me into the wall. I didn't want this moment to end; my hands wandered up his shirt and danced across his skin, his gloved hands inching their way up my costume. I heard a small clock chime _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve._ It's midnight! I was to be at rehearsal early the next morning because we were building sets for the new production. That's what I get for being a stagehand.  
"I'm sorry, I must go; tomorrow is a long day for me." I whispered in his ear. He slowly kissed my neck as he put me down, he then kissed my hand.  
"So soon mon amoureux enchanteur...? I wish we had more time." I blushed at his statement, causing him to give me that dark, devilish grin that made me melt.  
"Me to mon amour, but I have to start work in the morning."  
"Alright mon cherie, I shall be watching from my usual perch."  
"And where might that be?" He laughed.  
"In Box 5." He helped me into the boat and we sailed back to the staircase were I got out and started up the stairs, not before I pulled Erik to me and gave him one more kiss, my body melting at his commanding touch. The candle nub was growing shorter and finally burnt out halfway up the staircase. I let my hand guide me along the wall until I could see the light from the candle I had lit in my room. After tripping over a few stones, I finally made it back to my room. I moved the mirror, stepped in and closed it back. I didn't even bother changing into my nightgown; as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep. I thought the second coming of Christ was at my door. Apparently, whoever was at my door had the intention of waking up the whole opera house. I rolled out of bed, threw on a shawl, and opened the door. No sooner did I open the door did a fist make contact with my head. I hit the floor with a thud, blinding pain throbbing in my head. I hear two familure voices, one being a man, and the other, a ballerina's as I black out from the pain.


	10. Chapter 10

"December? As in this month? Why didn't you tell me sooner, I would have gotten her a gift!" I stand with Antoinette in the wings of the stage, the ballerina's going through a dress rehearsal of the full opera without Madame's help.  
"Well she only told us this afternoon, after we caught her brothers pestering her in that German gibberish he uses."  
"Do you know why the elder boy speaks only German? And what about the little one, he has yet to speak a word and they have been here for 4 months now." My old friend shook her head, pulling her long braid around to her chest.  
"She has only been dancing for a few weeks, and hardly speaks to any of the other ballerinas. Meg has started to get her to open up, but not much. Such a strange girl…" I nodded my head. _Yes, indeed..._ "The girl is about as mysterious as you are." We both chuckle at her statement, the Spanish pig's squeal at a high note making our spines shutter. _What could I do for Belle…? I want it to be as special as she is to me…_ my mind drifts back to the first time we met, the sound of the busy street drowning out the diva's deplorable diction as the boys' melody fills my ears. I close my eyes and see every detail perfectly. The little girl and mother who drew my attention to Belle in the first place, her rough performance, and her kindness as she gave me the picture frame…  
"Ladies that will be enough for today apparently." Antoinette's cane snapping me back to reality. I hide in the shadows of the wing, a flock of ballerina's flowing by me. I wait anxiously for a bob of auburn to pass me, only to have the usual rats who curry about. I turn to leave when another rat passes my hiding spot, hobbling along. I give a grin, Marie Foss was still out of commission and would be for a while according to Madame, her ankle broken.  
"Uncle! Where are you?" she calls out. I see a dark headed man with hair as curly as the girls step out from across the dimly lit wing. He comes to her side and kisses her forehead.  
"I am glad you told me about your accident, and about the girl. In return for your loyalty to the family, I shall have you put up nicely in a stately chateau outside of Paris. And of course I will present you to the finest men of Paris, with your looks, they will not resist you!" She gave an awful, nasally laugh that could shatter glass. _What girl were they talking about…? Surly not Belle…I will kill anyone who touches one hair on her head!_ I growled and shook my head as I step from the shadows and cross the now empty stage, grumbling to myself.  
"Did Carlotta upset you that badly?" I smile at the voice, not looking up.  
"I have told Bandeaux and Leroux to fire that squealing pig, but they refuse to listen to me; this is my opera house after all." I feel a hand on my arm. I look up to see Belle's bright eyes, her face glistening with sweat.  
"One day that squealing pig will roast on a spit!" Belle bursts in to laughter.  
"There are some days that Conner sounds better than Carlotta, and he is mute!" _So that is why he never speaks…_  
"If you do get Carlotta fired, who will replace her? I never see an understudy for her." We enter her room, her question lingering in the silent air between us. I hear her humming as I walk to the mirror. _I wish to make you the star of my opera house…_ I stop and sigh, turning back to bid her goodnight when I see something shining in the candlelight. Belle brings the silver object into view, smiling and humming still.  
"What are you holding?"  
"Huh?" She turns to me "It's my mother's necklace. Father had it made for her after I was born. I was their Christmas gift." The silver necklace was dull from the years of wear, the stone covered in dirt and greyed beyond recognition. It was an ugly thing in dire need of a cleaning. _Now there is an idea…_  
"So your birthday is near to Christmas is it mon cher?" A sweet blush rose in her cheeks.  
"The night of the opera actually, 19 days before Christmas."  
"Is it now? Then I shall have something wonderful to celebrate your birthday and your debut as a dancer!" She shook her head and gave a weary smile.  
"The only thing I ask for this year has already been answered. My brothers have a warm place to sleep and food enough to keep both of their bottomless stomach happy."  
"You wish nothing for yourself? Not a nice dress perhaps, or maybe a new adventure to indulge yourself with?" She shrugged her shoulders.  
"I'm sure those things would be nice…" a yawn making most of her words run together. I gave her a soft smile and picked her up to set her back in her bed. "Erik? May I stay with you tonight…" I nodded my head and set her down, playfully holding my nose.  
"Only if you bathe first!" She rolled her eyes and shook her head.  
"Remind me not to work so hard then. Now hand me my nightgown while I rid myself of the smell of a long day's work." I pull the silk gown from her wardrobe and watch the two vanish in a flash of white. I help myself to her vanity and take the box containing the necklace. I slide it into my coat pocket and take a few steps back. I wander about her room; it's so familiar yet so different. The furniture was very close to the same as it was before it burned; the wall paper was no longer pink since Carlotta practically had a mansion of a room to herself now. The walls were more a peach color with white trim. Gone were the days of this room being filled to the brim with flowers and endless fan swarming its door, now it housed a simple stagehand. "Some days I am still amazed that I can beckon hot water whenever I please."  
"I am glad to see you enjoy such a luxury in my opera house. Only the finest for you, mademoiselle…" I bow and kiss her hand. We quickly arrive to my abode, Belle half asleep at my feet only to be woken by the tapping of the boat to the shore. I pick her up and carry her back to my room, kissing her forehead softly as I lay her in my bed. "There is one thing I want for my birthday…" A grin rises in my cheeks as I undress behind the screen.  
"Name it my dear, and it shall be yours." My mind races of what she could want. _Maybe a new book, or she wants me to compose her a piece. Or perhaps a dress since she only has 3…_ I step out from the screen in my night shirt and come sit by her side.  
"Show me what is under your mask…. please…?" My heart stopped. _Surly if she saw the demented horror underneath she would run and cry in fear! She lives in innocent bliss of my curse…_ I shook my head, turning away from her.  
"No one must know what lies underneath… You will only scream and cry out in fear saying 'dear God above what is that thing?'" She puts a gentle hand to my arm.  
"You don't think I already know? I have lived on the streets with Conner and Lukas for longer than I wish to admit and everyone has their opinion on the Phantom who lurks in the shadows of this opera house." I cut her short.  
"Does this soliloquy have an end?" irritation bluntly obvious.  
"Your deformity does not define you; what you choose to be in spite of it does. You see a damned creature from hell; I see a musician with talent from heaven…" She didn't mean a word she said, for curiosity killed the cat.  
"Liar…" I mumble under my breath, my eyes looking everywhere but at her.  
"Oh… I'm to have wasted your precious time then." Her voice was empty and weak, her hand no longer on my arm. I hear sheets rustling and feet patter across the room.  
"Wait…" the patter stops. I get up and walk to the door, unable to reach out to her. "If you wish to see the curse that lies behind my façade, then you shall." I look up, her back still to me. She sighs and turns, meeting my eyes. I close my eyes as she takes off my mask. _I don't want to see her look of horror._ Her breathing did hitch, but she didn't move.  
"Is this all you were afraid to show me…?" _IS THIS ALL?!_ My eyes snap open, a warm smile on her face. The surgeries I had, with help of Antoinette and Meg did fix most of it, but there was much they could not do. My skin was no longer sunken around my eye and nose and the redness had mostly disappeared. My ear, however, remained more a hole on the side of my head. My cheek had been smoothed, but the skin near my hairline and temple were still a disastrous mess, but at least it had skin covering it instead of being my bare skull. I was closer to normal, but still a hideous creature that crawled from hell. "You look fine to me." Her hand grazing over my face. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, kissing her cheek.  
"I shall something simply divine for you after the performance. Something as special as you are…" I could feel her blushing madly. I lead her back to the bed, curling her in my arms. _I will show you just how much … how much I love you…_ The night of the opera came quickly, but not quick enough. I dressed in my typical attire, black boots and trousers, a white shirt and bow tie with my half masking fit snuggly to my face, my black coat fitting neatly over my shoulders with my cape hung over my arm. I had just returned from the manager's office with Belle's necklace shining like the Christmas star. The candlelight reflected beautifully in the newly shined silver, the gemstone dazzling the color of Belle's eyes. I smiled and put the gift in my pocket. My clock reminding me not to be late for her performance. I glided up the stairs to her mirror when a familiar voice echoed in the passageway.  
"Is the pay here good?" It was that little rat's uncle.  
"How did you get in here?!" that voice I knew, terror echoing in her voice. I begin to skip steps as I race to her mirror.  
"You still owe me for your father's debts." The lowlife said, his voice deep and rich. My mind was racing of his meaning. I hear the slamming of some kind as I see the light in her room. "I know one way you can pay me." I reach her mirror to see this vile creature pinning her to the dresser, leaning in to her. 'POP!' echoes richly through the passage, a grin on my face. _That's my girl!_ He reaches for her again, my face heating up like a kettle on a stove  
"Touch her again sir, and you will have to answer to me!" he looked around the room, then back at Belle. He bid her adieu and bolted out the door. I burst from the mirror and demanded answers. I felt a hand take mine and velvet lips kiss my cheek.  
"I shall explain later; I am really late as is. Madame will not like this." I sigh and nod in agreement. The one way to upset Madame was to be late for a performance. I pull her to me and place a long kiss upon her forehead before sliding back into the passageway to let her change. Once she departed, I quickly entered and found my way to my box. The opera house was once again packed; the talk of Carlotta on their lips. They were in for a better performance on my beautiful Belle took the stage. The orchestra began and the whole house hushed in anticipation. Somehow Carlotta managed to learn her lines properly, though the trope of gypsies being everyone's favorite. In the background I could see Belle's auburn bun bobbing among the other ballerinas as they 'followed' the duchess across the countryside. As Carlotta sang a small solo, the ballerinas changed costumes and readied for their feature. The lights dimmed long enough for the girls to find their places. _Now they will all see who is the better dancer…_ The spotlight returned to the ballerinas as the music began. They encircled Belle, then quickly broke away to reveal her beauty. My jaw hit the floor, several gasps echoed through as she was revealed. Her hair donned a dark blue scarf like a headband, letting her hair flow behind her, the top of the dress was white and very loose fitting, sitting just off her shoulders with a black corset to keep it in place. Her skirt flowed as she danced, hitting at her shin and matching the blue scarf in her hair. Her movements were so fluid, gracefully transitioning from one to the next and to my wonder, she balanced beautifully on top of the chest, her crimson smile dazzling the crowd. The curtain fell and the crowd gave a standing ovation to the unknown dancing girl, which drove Carlotta absolutely mad with jealousy! Sure Christine outshined her with her voice but a stagehand turned ballerina? I rushed back to her room and hid behind the mirror, in case of unwanted visitors to her door. She soon walked in and locked the door. I knocked on the glass, only to have her go to the door.  
"Over here silly girl!" I took the box from my pocket and held it behind my back as I pushed aside the mirror. "Yes, it's for you, ma Cherie." The look on her face when she saw the necklace was worth it since she was in so much shock I had to put on her myself. "Follow me, I have something else for you." She quickly put her slippers on and followed me down the stairs to the boat. I led her to my piano where I left the picture frame. Her eyes were hopeless locked with mine, her hand becoming a part of mine. I let go momentarily to light the other candles around my piano, her eyes locking on the frame she gave me. She picked it up, wide eyed as her hand brushed over the frame and glass.  
"Did you draw this…?" I nodded my head with pride. "I don't understand…" I took the frame from her hands, setting it back on the piano. _This is it; you tell her now or you will miss your chance._  
"This is how I see you. Not as a worker with callused hands or a ballerina with makeup and costumes, but an intelligent girl with beauty beneath the surface. I see charm that lasts for more than a moment, whit that would make anyone laugh, and a heart full of bravery. You put others first and yourself last, and this time I wanted you to feel what it's like to be in the limelight." I looked up, the candlelight reflecting in her soft blue eyes. _Just do it you fool! Kiss her already!_ I took her hands in mine, pulling her close to me. My heart was going to explode if it beat any faster. I put my hands to her face, my lips softly kissing hers. The felt like velvet, how I wanted to kiss them over and over… if her eyes were any wider they would pop out of her head.  
"I may be a dancer, but I am not that dainty. Care to try again, mon amour?" A playful grin gracing her face. I shared her grin as I picked her up in my arms, deepening my kiss. I felt her legs slowly wrap around my waist, letting me press her into the wall behind the piano. Her hands pulled my shirt up and slowly began to dance across my skin like lighting across the sky. Such electricity in a soft touch, I let my hands wander as well, wishing to explore as much as possible. The clock rang out the time, but I was too preoccupied with being in heaven on earth. _You screw this up and you deserve to die…_ "I'm sorry, I must go; tomorrow is a long day for me." She whispered in my ear. I kissed her neck slowly as I set her down, her sigh making me want her all the more.  
"So soon mon amoureaux enchanteur….? I wish we had more time."  
"I wish we did mon amour, but I have work in the morning, bright and early. " I took her hand in mine as we walked back to the boat, my eyes hardly leaving hers as I ferried us across. I helped her out and let her to the staircase, hoping for one more kiss before she left. Surprisingly, she grabbed my half buttoned shirt and pulled me to her lips. I happily obliged her, that sigh of hers making my heart melt. I slowly returned to my abode, my mind in a blissful daze. For the first time in years, I slept through the night and most of the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Good evening readers! I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up and for the future delay in the next one; late nights at work and a test on Monday have me very busy. Now we get to see just who was at Belle's door and many other question that may be lingering in your mind. WARNING! This chapter does get a little risqué, so I will give this an M rating, but don't worry, this is the only chapter that gets this involved. I would love to have more reviews left to improve anything you think needs. I remain your obedient servant,  
~The Southern Rose~**

 **I woke with a start** , where was I? The whole room was moving, and the floor was pine wood. We hit a bump and fully laden boxes came crashing down on top of me. I was still in my gypsy costume and I could see rays of light hitting the glitter on the skirt of my costume. I stood up and tried to walk to the front of the wagon, when something pulled me back. On my ankle was a shackle attached to a baseboard. Suddenly we came to a halt; I crawled back to where I woke up and pretended to be out. The back opened and flooded the wagon with light.  
"I can't believe she's still out. Maybe you shouldn't have hit her that hard." Said a voice.  
"She'll get over it." That voice I knew, it was Monsieur Foss. "I'll be back." A few moments later, I was dripping wet and shivering. "Good morning." Monsieur Foss purred. He moved closer to me, only to have me spit in his eye. His partner slapped me across my face, making my lip bleed and leaving a scar across my cheek from his lavish ring. "Monsieur DuPont, behave yourself, she is a guest for heaven's sake."  
"Where am I? And how did you find me!"  
"Right now? Somewhere on the outskirts of Paris. Now get ready; there will be many travelers on their way into the city, for the Christmas season is upon us! You are going to earn the money you owe Monsieur Foss." DuPont said. He unchained me from the wagon and placed a hat in front of me. I glared at Monsieur Foss until Monsieur DuPont stuck a knife at my side.  
"Well when you put it like that, I can see your point." I said. I danced to the rhythm of their violins and earned many francs. By midday, the hat was overflowing with money. Monsieur DuPont emptied the hat into a box and set it out in front of me again. One wagon stopped to talk to us; this was my chance to send word to the opera house.  
"Bonjour Monsieur!" the woman cried from the buggy. "Are you good people on your way to Paris?" I looked at the two men for some clue as to what to say.  
"Yes we are." Monsieur Foss said. He walked up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder.  
"Ah, I see." The man said. "Is this your wife?" _Do I look like a married woman to you?_ Monsieur Foss nodded his head and wrapped his arms around me. I squirmed out of his grip.  
"Christian, I'm hungry." The woman said.  
"Well, why don't you good people have lunch with us?" I insisted. "What do you say, honey?" Saying that certainly did not taste like what I just said. _Don't get used to me calling you that._ Monsieur Foss grin and nodded his head and the couple disembarked from their wagon. DuPont walked to the back of the wagon and grabbed the lunch basket. We sat in front of Christian and his wife's wagon. We talked about most everything; the weather, the royal family, and the next play at the Opera Garner. They told us of a rumor that a woman stage hand had been kidnapped and they were looking for her _._ Monsieur Foss said there couldn't be such a thing as a woman stagehand, for women did not have the brain capacity for such, grueling tasks. I looked over and tried to kill him with my glare from hell.  
"Oh yes, there was. She was very beautiful they say; the owners found her in a gypsy camp. She made this" and pulled out a box that I had made. "I use it as a jewelry box."  
"If you will excuse me." DuPont said. He got up and headed for a tree. Foss started packing up lunch when I pretended to sneeze.  
"God bless you." Christian said and handed me his handkerchief. I thanked him just as Foss walked away to put up the basket. I leaned forward and told the couple everything that happened _._ I handed the handkerchief back to him and told him to deliver this to the Opera Garner. I ripped a piece of my scarf that held my hair and gave it to him. I told him to show this to the managers of the Opera Garner, and ask for a woman named Madame Giry. She will know where this came from, and hopefully, Erik will somehow come across it. My heart ached at the thought of him. _My darling Erik, how I miss you so…_  
"What's going on here?" DuPont said zipping up his breeches.  
"She was showing us the art of embroidering. My wife has yet to learn the skill. Thank you for showing her and hope to see you at Christmas Mass. Come Marina, let's go; your mother will be wondering what happened to us." And they left with my one chance of outside help in his pocket. I still was planning my escape even if help did come. Thank goodness the two fools had no idea of what happened. For the rest of the day I danced and filled the hat one more time before it was too dark to see.  
"What a day, look at all of this money! Twice what we normally earn, and it's all thanks to you." DuPont said. Foss just nodded and stared at me. DuPont ate furiously; at least he got to eat. When I tried to grab something I was knocked in the side to the ground. Foss walked behind be and began to kiss my neck.  
"He's right, you danced wonderfully today." His hands all over me. I tried to pull away but between his grip and my lack of energy, it wasn't looking like I was going anywhere. He pulled me back to the wagon his hands still wandering over my costume.  
"How did you know where I was?" He grinned and leaned to me.  
"Wouldn't you like to know…" His deep voice echoing in my ear.  
"Surly you don't expect me to believe you're that smart; you can hardly write, let alone keep up with your biggest client" I earned a swift backhand to my already bruised cheek.  
"You will learn to control that fat mouth of yours, or I shall shut it for you. He took my chin in his hand, bringing me back to his unusually calm face. "Since you are so curious little flower, I might as well indulge your simple little mind. When my niece broke her ankle, she sent me a letter about the little stagehand who took her place. I had to see this for myself. When I saw it was you, I knew this would be my chance to get what your family would never give me…"  
"You sick demented man! You took advantage of a poor musician and his family!"  
"Welcome to Paris darling, nothing is ever fair in this city." I growled with all I had  
"GO TO HELL!" He just laughed, a twinge of insanity in his laughter.  
"Where do you think I live my sweet? Hell is my realm of domain. You still have yet to pay me, but I know one way." He kissed me and shoved me against the side of the wagon. His hands lifted my skirt and began to explore the skin underneath. He told DuPont to go and take a hike, which he ignored. Foss pick me up and threw me in the back of his wagon, his lust following behind me. I tried to crawl away from the two, only to be dragged back across the wooden floor. My dress was stripped off me and thrown like a rag, leaving me in my undergarments. I could hear them arguing over who had me first. Of course Foss won the argument. He towered over me, relieving himself of his thick trousers and shirt. What I wouldn't give for something thick and warm instead of my thin costume.  
"Take them off slut…" I cringed at the word. I rose to my knees and leaned in to him, his face twisted in a sadistic grin. I spit in his face.  
"I am no slut!" His fist quickly made contact with my stomach, making me double over. My breathing was shallow, then he pulled me up by my chin.  
"If you want to survive, you will obey me…" he threw my head back. I complied with his command. I had been reduced to a cheap tramp from a brothel. _Oh Erik…I miss you so…._ I looked up at Foss, who's sadistic grin had returned as he began to slowly strip me of what dignity I had left. He licked his lips and began to kiss my neck, laying me softly onto the floor of the wagon. I could hear DuPont grumbling, wanting his turn with their new toy. Foss took his sweet time with my body, feeling every inch with his hands until he finished. He dressed and kissed me once more before leaving me to the pacing wolf, hungry for his dinner. DuPont leapt into the wagon, his eyes wide like a madman. I sat up and tried to cover myself with the blanket Foss laid beneath me. DuPont quickly relieved himself of his clothing and just stared at me.  
"It's been so long since I've had a whore…Especially one as beautiful as you…" He launched himself to me, my back landing with a thud on the floor. He pinned my arms above my head and began to violently kiss my neck and shoulders, thrusting himself harder and harder into me. With every yelp I let out, he would grin and growl in my ear, going harder until he finished. I curled in the back of the wagon and cried softly for Erik. _Please…Erik help me…Please…_

Over the next few days, I had the same routine; dance like a gypsy during the day, and be their scarlet woman at night. When dinner rolled around, I was so weak, I could barely eat what little food they left for me. Foss finished his dinner first and was ready for his paramour, but now, I was ready and this was my one chance. I indulged him long enough to grab his knife from his belt, and in once fail swoop sliced him like a piece of pie. I cut him across his leg and into the wood. He let out a yell and after being hit violently slapped and sent to the ground, I took off running, keeping the knife just in case something happened. By the time DuPont tried looking for me, I was long gone, on my way to freedom. Now my next challenge was getting through the city, back to the Opera Garner.


	12. Chapter 12

**I managed to hide** under a rich man's carriage that was headed to the city, the freshly fallen snow melting as the carriage passed over and splashing up into my hiding spot. I left them and started walking the streets. The lamps were burning bright so for once I could see my way as the snow continued to softly fall. I passed the home we lived in until Mother and Father died, and the market where we shopped. On the next right was Grandmother's cottage, the one she rented after Grandfather died and where we could come visit her for Christmas. Further into the city was Monsieur Foss's saloon and gambling hall were Father lost all of his money and were Mother and Father were killed. From here, I knew every twist and turn like the back of my hand. I could see the occasional man looking for a good time, but after a quick flash of the knife, they looked elsewhere. This part of the city had changed since my brothers and I lived here. There was a new dance hall with ladies of the night called the Moulin Rouge. And even it was being renovated into an opera house. Shutters on apartments and houses were falling off. The paint was beginning to curl, the cross from the church that Father worked at and where we stayed at occasionally was missing, probably burned as fire wood. I shivered hard in the cold. This thin costume was doing nothing to keep me warm. _What I wouldn't give for a cloak… or better yet Erik's warm arms…_ As I neared the opera house, I could see the different places that my brothers and I camped. The different alleyways and old run-down buildings were pieces of our messed up lives. I walked up to the doors of the opera house to find them locked. I tried to climb the wall, but the snow had made things way to slippery. I wondered around only to find loose rocks on the side of the opera house. After a little jarring, a door opened letting me in. The door closed on my dress, tearing off the under layer of my costume. _Well, if I ever get back, Madame Giry is NOT going to be happy about me ruining one of her costumes, even if I can fix it_. There was a hallway like the one behind my mirror, I follow it in hopes that Erik was at the end of this winding forever hall, I missed him so. The hallway was dimly lit with torches; I kept tripping over the frayed laces of my slippers so I took them off and threw them behind me. That was a mistake; the rocks were jagged and cut my feet like a piece of ribbon. Somehow after one wrong turn after another, the light began to grow brighter and brighter. _Erik my love...I'm coming my sweet…_ I tried to run but my legs were sore from the dancing and walking and my body was weak from the lack of food. I could hear water dripping and the soft sound of a wave. I could see the gate and followed the land bridge to another entrance to his hideaway. I peeked around the corner to see Erik leaned over his piano in a heap. He sat up and I could see the picture of me he had framed. The wood was wet in random spots. He didn't have his mask on, which I preferred. His eyes were red and the light was reflecting off of the tears in his eyes.  
"Oh Erik…my love…" I whispered. He turned around and nearly fainted. He scrambled around to find a mask. "I don't care… you look fine to me." He dropped it and ran to my side, taking me in his strong arms. He gathered my hair in his fist and buried his face in my neck.  
"Oh god I thought I lost you… my sweet Belle…" I squeezed him with what might I had left, my arms shaking like leaves. He pulled back to see my face, brushing away dirty strands of hair. "Mon ange, you are so pale, and so thin…what happened to you…?"  
"Erik…my darling…I…" then all went black.


	13. Chapter 13

I roll to my side, expecting to feel a warm body, but only found one of my throw pillows. _Was it all a dream? Did last night really happen?_ I sat up and stretched, my back cracking in several places. The clock in the great room began to ring out its usual chime, _One, two, three, four, five, six…surely I didn't sleep this late? Seven, eight, nine, ten…_ Ten in the morning? How could this be?! I flew out of bed and dressed in something more casual than my usual coat and tails. _Belle, I have to see her and make sure this wasn't all a dream…_ I took the gondola across the lake and started to skip steps as I ascended the stairs. I threw the mirror open, nearly cracking the glass.  
"Belle!" I shouted. The only reply I received was silence. I stepped into her room, remembering her words 'I have to be at work in the morning.' I didn't care if she was working, I had to see her. I took a few steps toward her door when something soft met the sole of my boot. _Her shawl, but why would she drop it?_ I took it in my hands when  
"Where is she Erik?" I look up to see Antoinette ready to strangle me with my own noose. I stood to my feet, towering over the middle-aged woman.  
"I was hoping you could tell me. I found this on the floor when I walked in." I gave her the shawl. Two more bodies joined her; Conner and Lukas had eyes locked on me as I gave Antoinette their sister's shawl. The elder of the boys began to spew out German gibberish, only a few words could I recognize while the younger one just stared at me, I assume cursing me in whatever language mute people use. "I really wish I could help, but you know as much as I do. We have to find her, I lo…" I halted my sentence as Antoinette pulled me by the arm, who was having her hand pulled on by the little mute boy. No one said a word, but followed the boy to their room. He let go of Antoinette's hand and raced to his cot, pulling out a piece of paper with writing on it. He handed it to Antoinette, pointing rapidly at the page. I leaned over to see what was written on it.

 _To M. and Md. Wagner,_

 _Though you may try and run and change your Austrian surname to a French name, you will never be able to hide from me. I send you proof through the boy, Conner, your youngest child. See now that he has no tongue and will never be able to speak again. This is the price of your disobedience; Should you try and run again, heaven help what will happen to your daughter. Belle is quite a fitting name; a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. And your elder boy, Lukas, we would hate to see him sent away to an insane asylum for not speaking and jabbering on in a language hardly anyone knows. To ensure their safety, I have added half again to your existing debt, which now comes to 550 francs. I shall await your next payment._

 _M. Jean Foss._

The letter was yellowed yet the ink was a black as it's soulless writer against the parchment. I took a step back, trying to understand why the boy had given this letter to us. Who was this sadistic man who held this poor family hostage by turning one boy mute and threatening the life of their only daughter. My fist tightened the more my mind brewed on the letter. I wanted to hang this man just like I did Joseph Bouquet…  
"I don't understand, what does this letter have to do with Belle?" The boy stomped his foot, his elder brother crossing his arms as they shared the same, disgruntled look. He pointed to the page again, then to himself. Antoinette sat on his bed, patting the empty space next to her. "Come, show me what you mean." He slowly came to the woman's side and leaned over to see the letter. His eyes first went to the top of the letter, pointing to the word _Wagner,_ then pointing to himself and his brother. Antoinette put her finger on the word. "This, this is your last name?" He smiled and nodded. The continued to read, then smiling as he pointed to _Conner_ and then to himself. "And you are Conner?" He nodded and pointed to _Lukas,_ and to his brother.  
"Me…Lukas…" Lukas said in broken French. "Belle tell me…people say…in German…" His French worse than a child.  
"So Belle would translate for your brother?" I asked. Conner nodded his head. He pointed to the word _debt_ then looked up at Antoinette, then pointed to her.  
"Me? What kind of debt do I have?" He shook his head, then pointed to all of us, Lukas first, then himself, then myself and Antoinette. "All of us? We have a debt?" He shook his head and hopped up, grabbing his brother by the hand. Then pointed to all of us again. Antoinette shook her head and rubbed her temples. I looked around, _His brother, himself, but why point to us…? We didn't have any debts; we weren't his family… FAMILY!  
_ "Family! It was your parents' debt wasn't it?" Conner perked up and nodded his head, running to my side and hugging my waist. I ruffled is thick brown hair. I feel a tap on my shoulder and see a piece of fresh parchment and a pencil hang over my shoulder. I turn back to see Lukas, a smile on his face.  
"Conner… write…"  
"Conner, can you write as well as read?" He nodded his head as I handed him the parchment and pencil. He began to write slowly, using his finger as a straight line. He handed the paper back, his writing neat for a 9 -year-old.

 _Father would go out at night to try and get us money, but would come home empty. Then one day I was walking home with Grandmother and someone grabbed me and cut my tongue out. They gave me the letter and told me to go home and give it to Mother and Father. Grandmother was scared. They read it and dropped it on the floor. I just kept it in case it might be important._

"Conner, where would this Foss man take your sister? Do you have any idea?" I was desperate to find her, to hold her and protect her from the evil in this world. The boy simply shrugged his shoulder. I slammed my hand on a table, making the boy jump. "YOU must know something!"  
"Erik enough! You're frightening the poor boy." Antoinette spat as the took the boy in her motherly arms. "We will find her, don't you worry." I grumbled and looked away, they could be kilometers from here; long gone from my arms. I flew out of the room, voices calling to me. I didn't care nor was I in the mood to deal with people. I walked back to her room, hoping to catch a glimpse of her somehow; maybe find a clue as to where she was… Her bed had the covers pulled back to one side, the soft outline of her head on the pillow. My picture was next to her bed, a book placed behind it. I went to her wardrobe; either she changed while being taken or she never changed into her nightgown. All that was out of order was her shall on the floor, and her body not next to mine. I took the picture with me as I slid the mirror back into place. The passageway was darker than usual, the cold draft of winter air seeping through the walls. The water of the lake was higher than normal, and yet the boat dragged like it was shallow. I finally returned to my hideaway and fell to my piano; my only comfort and place of solace. I began to play the piece from the first night I met Belle, her picture sitting on top of my piano. For days on end this was where I stayed. I would play until I could not keep my eyes open, then try and rest; only to snap my eyes open when I would see her face. Antoinette tried to bring me something to eat, but would return the next day to find it in the exact spot she left it hardly touched.  
"Erik please, you need to eat something. You're becoming more and more like the ghost people believe you to be." She set the plate of food next to my piano. I looked over at her, my eyes bloodshot and my face red. I had given up on wearing my mask. She put a hand to my arm, stopping my playing. "At least take a bath; you look like hell." _How fitting; the Phantom of the Opera looking like his birthplace…_ I sighed and let her pull me to my bath tub, the sound of the soft running water almost deafening. She left me to change and clean up. The water did help ease some of the physical pain of playing non-stop for days now, but my heart and soul still ached for her. I stretched as I exited the claw-footed tub, my back popping more than usual. I pulled the towel Antoinette had draped over the screen and dried off, letting the cool air make goosebumps on my skin. I put on a fresh set of clothes and return to my piano. I sit at the bench and slowly try to force food down, each bite making me sicker than the last. I threw the plate to the wall and cursed my existence. _I should have followed her! I should have stayed the night with her, anything!_ I run my hands through my midnight black hair as if to smooth back the swirling storm of emotions in my head. I look up to see the picture frame among the mess of parchment.  
"My Belle…how could I lose you so quickly…" I close my eyes, letting my fingers trace over the design her hands made, nearly feeling her callused, tiny, hands beneath mine. Her laughter rang loudly in my ears, her smile lighting up the room. The tears fell like the snow outside, soft and slow.  
"Oh Erik…my love…" I snap my head to the soft whisper at break neck speed. _OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN!_ My whole body shook and felt weak as I scrambled to find a mask. "I don't care…you look fine to me…" The mask fell to the floor as my feet flew at the speed of Hermes. I gathered her in my arms, burring my face in her neck.  
"Oh god I thought I lost you….my sweet Belle…" her embrace around me was weaker than I remembered. I pulled back, just wanting to drink in her presence. Her face was covered in a thin layer of dirt, mud entangling her once glossy and brilliant auburn hair. I softly brushed aside her hair, her eyes were dull and were half opened at best. "Mon ange, you are so pale, and so thin…what happened to you…?" She tried to utter a few words before going limp in my arms. I picked her up in my arms, holding her tight to me. I brought her to my bed, her wet dress clinging to her body, making every rib visible. _What has this monster done to my love…?_ I lay her softly back into my bed, her body hardly making a dent in the mattress. I kiss her softly and leave a note and a rose by her bedside and hurry off to spread the good news of her return.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello my readers! I do apologize for not posting; it's been an emotional week and work isn't really helping. I know the past 2 chapters were rather short, and probably really bad (insert awkward emoji here). I promise to make up for it, with several chapters to be posted soon and I hope to send you all on an emotional rollercoaster! You won't know what will happen next! Just a reminder; I do NOT own any of the original Leroux or Webber characters (Madame, Erik, Meg etc.) I only lay claim to my OC. I would love to have any/all of my readers leave reviews/ comments for this story. I could really use them to fuel what I have instore for the backside of the climax of the story. I remain your obedient servant,**

 **~The Southern Rose~**

I awake in a room with one candle next to the bed, but it wasn't my bed. This bed was round, sheets of silk and pillows of real feathers, it was Erik's bed. _I wish he were here next to me…_ Next to the candle was again, a rose tied with a black ribbon and a note underneath it.

 _Mon ange, in the closet is a dress that might fit you. You've grown very thin so it may be a touch big. I'll be back soon; I must talk to Badeaux and Leroux about something. Love, Erik._

I loved him. I rolled over and tried to push myself up, but my body was too weak to support my weight and I crashed back onto the bed. I really needed to get out of this wet and torn costume so I tried again. This time, I pushed up off the bed and was able to stand on my own legs. I shuffled to the closet where the dress was hanging neatly. When I compared it to my body, there was no way I could wear this and move at the same time. The dress dragged the floor, the sleeves extending past my hands and the neckline was so low, I would be showing more than a brothel woman. Putting it back, I wondered if there was something in the other room. Taking his other cape, I wrapped myself in its velvety warmth and walk across the hall. I tried the door knob and surprisingly, it was unlocked. I grabbed the short, stubby candle from the other room and brought light into a room that hadn't seen it for years. The room was filled with things he considered to be junk; boxes, wooden frames, broken and burnt tables and chairs, and in the corner was a chest. The chest had the initials CED carved on it. I set the candle on a chair and walked over to the chest. Inside was a load of dresses, cloaks, and lace pieces that were littered with holes, some barely more than a rag. After rummaging through all of them, there was one that seemed to say 'wear me'. The holes were towards the bottom and the buttons were missing. It was white and light as a snowflake. The sleeves were burnt off, probably from the fire, but it looked just as nice with small sleeves that barely covered my shoulders. I brought it back to the bedroom and changed. It fit me well enough and was light enough for me to sleep in, and that's precisely what I did. I tucked myself back into the warmth of the sheets and was asleep in minutes. When I woke up, Erik was standing, well, more like leaning against the door, his eyes only half open.  
"Erik mon douce..." I whispered. I scared him unintentionally.  
"Belle!" His eyes widened with surprise. I sat up and brought my legs to my chest, smiling with my head on my knees. A tear sneaked out from under his mask as he ran to my side. He sat on the bed and embraced me in a warm and tight hug. "I will never let you go. I promise..." He whispered while stroking my long hair, squeezing me tight. I flinched at his light grip, yelping in pain. He pulled back and took a long look at me, noticing the cut across my cheek and the bruises on my neck. "What did he do to you?"  
"It's nothing, really…." I trailed off. _Please just let this go…_  
"These bruises are not nothing mon ange..." I swallowed hard. I looked away, fiddling with the sheet which I tried to use to hide the rest of my bruises. Erik pulled away the sheets and examined the rest of my body. He pulled the sheets away from me, my legs mostly red and blue. He ran a hand over my back and I flinched more times than not. The look on his face made guilt and disgust well up inside.  
"I don't wanna talk about it. I want them to go away and never surface."  
"Belle please, I can help, wait, them...?" I let out a sigh and looked at him, my face like a literal beaten horse. I turned my back to him and slowly pulled the dress over my head to reveal a back that was more purple and blue that flesh. The bruises reached around my sides, hugging every exposed rib. My legs were the same story. After a few moments, he began to put things together. "No..." he whispered. I quickly put my dress back on and closed my eyes. I could feel him get up. I looked up, the mask glowed against is hot angry face. "I'll kill them both!" He swore. He slammed his fist on the small table next to the bed. Erik stormed back and forth in the room, swearing like a drunken sailor on leave. I closed my eyes again. I felt such shame. He stormed over to the door and punched it with all he had, screaming like a banshee. I jumped and cried out in fear.  
"NO PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME!" His head snapping to my sound. I was curled in a ball, my arm instinctively raised in defense. Sighing, he returned to my side, unable to look at me, but put a gentle hand to mine. I touched him gently on the arm. He didn't flinch, but continued to stare into the distance, like he was pondering at what type of noose to use. I took his face in my hand and turned it back to face me. His gaze slowly began to soften, maybe because he saw me not as an obstacle, but a human. Or maybe he knew that what's done is done and he cannot change the past. Erik grabbed my hand from his face, kissed it and said. "Stay here and I will get something to help heal that." He left and came back with a small bottle and a bandage. Using an old cloth from his 'junk room' he poured the alcohol onto the cloth and cleaned the cuts on my forehead. I was still covered in filth and now I had a few clean marks across my head. We both began to laugh,  
"Maybe you could use a bath. After all, I don't want you dirtying my bed any more than you already have."  
"Well I see you care more for your sheets than for me." I sarcastically replied, turning my back to him and crossing my arms.  
"Mon beau ange cheri, you know that is not so!" he playfully pleaded. He scooted closer to me and wrapped his arms gingerly around my waist. "Would a hot bath and a beautiful song make it up to you mon amant le plus magnifuque… ?" he cooed in my ear. I leaned into his chest, a smirk gracing my lips. "I really need to clean up. I'm tired of feeling messy, plus some beautiful music and handsome company would make everything so much better…" I purred. He kissed my cheek and picked me up in his arms, sighing and shaking his head.  
"You are a devilish woman; you know that?" he chuckled. _Warm water never felt so good in all my life._ Erik placed the screen in front of the tub to let me change and have my privacy. He sat at his piano in the main living area and played his heart out. I nearly fell asleep to his beautiful voice, so rich and dark, so tantalizing. I somehow managed to get out of the tub, dried and changed. I stumbled toward the main area, swearing under my breath.  
"Bon sang!" I cry out, dropping to my knees. My head ached terribly, like someone was pounding out a march. I hear the quiet march of Erik's boots. He quietly scooped me in his arms and laid me in his bed, softly petting my hair. "Erik…" I whimpered "Please…hold me…" I felt a soft kiss to my temple as he changed into a night shirt. Soon I was joined by a warm body and a strong pair of arms gingerly holding me. I slowly rolled to my side, my Erik smiling back at me. "Take that silly thing off…" I groaned.  
"I will frighten you even more… I am nothing but" I pressed my lips to his, my hand slowly removing his mask.  
"I want to love all of you, not just part…" my voice weak  
"Oh mon petit ange…" he whispered, kissing my forehead. He pulled me close to his chest, softly singing me to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello again readers! I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've posted, I've had a little bit of writer's block trying to fill in Erik's Point of View but fear not! The next few chapters will leave you wondering; does she live? What will happen to her family? And what about Foss and DuPont, will they be caught? For now, enjoy this softer chapter of The Phantom and the Stagehand, before things blow your mind (insert appropriate meme here). Please leave reviews! I really would love some feedback from you guys. I remain your obedient servant,  
~The Southern Rose~**

I burst into the manager's office, the two nitwits actually doing their assigned jobs of managing the money and not sticking their noses in MY art. The two bolt upright, one of them swearing under his breath.  
"Monsieur Please! A knock would…" Leroux started to whine. I slammed my fist on the table  
"She's back!" I shout. Their pens fall to the table, ink blotting the parchment. They gave each other stupid, dumbfounded looks; looking more like codfish than men.  
"When did she return? And how did she escape?" Badeaux inquired  
"Where is the girl Monsieur?!" Leroux begged.  
"I know not how she escaped, but I do know that she is safe and so help me if anyone tries to harm her…" my fists ball around a loose pencil on the desk. 'SNAP', the sound echoing through the now dead silence. I do try to keep my composure, but the image of her frail, weak, thin body caused my blood to boil. A small knock breaks the tension in the room.  
"It's only me monsieur." One of the managers bid the voice come in, my attention still on the now broken pencil.  
"Mamselle, how nice of you to visit. What can I do for you?"  
"Madame sent me with suggestions for the next performance." I see Leroux gesture to the girl  
"Thank you Mamselle, just sent them on the desk. Anything else Madame needs for the performance?" there was no response, just the rustle of fabric. I hear the patter of feet start to cross the room, the sound slowly growing before stopping.  
"I don't think we have met monsieur…" her voice purring. I remain still, ignoring her attempt to entice me.  
"And I would like to keep it that way…" I hear the rat huff and puff like a horse before turning and walking out.  
"Mamselle! Before you leave, tell Madame that the stagehand girl has returned and I would like to see her as soon as possible."  
"That's impossible!" she cried out. Her voice was on edge, nearly in a state of panic. I turn my head, making sure to keep my mask hidden. Her thick raven hair was unruly atop her head, a curly mess as untamed as a rat's next. Both managers looked up from their work, curious at the girl's response.  
"Care to elaborate on that statement…." I let out a growl.  
"Yes Mamselle Foss, do elaborate on your statement. How is it impossible for the girl to be back?" The girl began to mumble and stutter like a child caught in a lie. She slowly began to back away, her eyes locked on me.  
"Answer you managers' girl, and answer the owner of this opera house…" I turned full view, seeing her skin pale and eyes go wide made me smile.  
"You…You… the phantom…." I slowly nodded my head as I gave the girl a twisted grin. She quickly bolted out the door, throwing it open and letting it slam against the wall. I disappear from the office, half tempted to follow the girl. I walk back toward Belle's room, the sounds of busying people getting ready for Christmas. The smell of pine trees float over the air as the grand hall is transformed. Garland is hung from the staircase, silver tinsel glimmering in the flood of daylight through the windows. At each post, a large red bow is elegantly tied. At the entrance of the staircase are two logs, both tied with red ribbons. Servants, maids, stagehands and ballerinas alike pass by the logs, putting their hands to the Yule Log for a brief moment before leaving with a smile.  
"Not yet! You don't set out the Créche until 3 days before Christmas!" One elderly gentleman barked. My attention is drawn to the young stagehands holding a wax figure of the Virgin Mary, her head covering dragging on the ground.  
"But the managers said to put it out now for the ballet recital tonight." The elderly man rolled his eyes, taking his monocle and cleaning it on his shirt.  
"Alright fine, but it certainly isn't tradition. And I better not see a Christmas tree in here until next week!" He promptly set his eye glass in his right eye before turning to other decorators and barking more orders at them to add tinsel until the ballroom glistens like the stars. The whole room was to be as gaudy as the streets of Paris. People buying things left and right to appease expectations and have something bigger and better than their neighbor. I walk along the wall, keeping out of sight. The sound of breaking glass and swearing catches my attention.  
"Watch where you're going!" a maid cries out as she is covered in wine. The girl doesn't even look back, but grabs her suitcase and bolts out the door. I continue along the wall and through the stagehand's quiet dorm. Most of them are either out with a ballet rat or at least trying to. Their dorm wreaks to high heavens, like they are less men and more animals living in their own filth. _Though you may be men, have a little decency to clean up around here! A rag never hurt anyone._ I kick bottle after bottle of numerous variations of liquor. I cover my nose with my sleeve to try and muffle the screaming stench. I dare not think of the things that go on in these dorms; booze, many men missing the pot and hitting the wall instead, and heaven forbid they bring one of those scarlet women back here for a night. At least when I reach the exit, the air is fresh and clean. My mind begins to drift back to Belle, who is probably still asleep in my bed. Her dirty auburn hair spilling over my crimson pillow, her body barely making a dent in my plush mattress and her face, so filthy and shallow, almost like a different person. I make my way to her room, occasionally having to slip into the shadows to avoid people. I could feel the effects of the sleepless nights starting to take hold; my eyes were burning like fire and my body ached like that of a 60-year-old man. When I reached her room, I hardly recognized the man staring back at me in the mirror. My eyes were dull, their icy color now melted away with anxiety and worry and had bags that weighed heavily from guilt. I was a walking apparition, my mask now darker than my skin. I pushed the ghost aside and stepped through the mirror, making my way back to my bed and back to Belle. The walk down the steps seemed longer than usual, my feet practically pounding into the stone steps. Once I finally crossed the lake, I dragged myself to my bedroom, using the door as a crutch.  
"Erik mon douce…" a small voice whispered. I bolt upright, my body suddenly full of energy and life.  
"Belle!" Her smile, her precious smile melted away my anxiety and worry. Her hair flowed to one side and pooled on the sheets as he rested her head on her knee. Flying across the room, I embrace her with all I can muster. "I will never let you go, I promise mon amour…" her hair was no longer silky, but still felt wonderful in my hands. It was all I could do not to squeeze the life out of her.  
"Ah!" she stifled. I let go, sitting next to her on the bed. She had a long fire red scar on her cheek, purple marks on her neck.  
"What did he do to you…?" _If that monster laid one finger on her I will kill him, slowly…_  
"It's nothing really…" her voice defeated and quiet.  
"These bruises are not nothing mon ange…" She looked away from me, her eyes focused on the abyss as her hands idly fiddled with the scarlet sheets. I slide the sheets from her hands, making sure to keep her calm and still. I could hardly believe what I saw; legs that were once strong were now covered in scrapes and bruises. I could see her on the verge of tears. I put a hand to her back, only to have her flinch at my touch. My mind began to race, imagining what that man did to my girl. My eyes burned with the question I couldn't bring myself to ask.  
"I don't wanna talk about it. I want them to go away and never surface." She whimpered.  
"Belle please, I can, wait…them…?" She slowly nodded her head as she pulled her dress over her head, turning her back to me. Her back was now a canvas of purple and blue, like the late dusky sunset. The blotches of color reached around her sides, hugging her ribcage.  
"No…" my hollow voice whispered. Her back remained to me as she covered it with the dress. My eyes darted around like flies. _He had an accomplice, that monster AND his filthy accomplice did this to MY girl! My little angel…_ They say no fury hath that than a woman scorn, but they have yet to see the fury of the Phantom of the Opera! My fury shall put God Himself to shame. "I'LL KILL THEM BOTH!" I cried out, committing my last breath to their demise as I pound my fist on the table, nearly breaking the oak nightstand. I pace about the room, rage and wrath being my source of energy. _They will RUE the day they touched my Belle! I will have their heads as lampshades and use their bones for kindling!_ The image of Belle being helpless in their grasp flooding my mind. Their hands on her body, using and abusing her like a whore…  
"DAMN YOU ALL!" I screamed, taking all of my anger out on my solid wood door.  
"NO PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME!" a helpless and pitiful cry ringing through. My mind snaps to the sound; I see Belle curled in a ball toward the head of the bed, a weak hand raised in defense. _Oh my sweet…_ returning to her side, I hang my head and take her hand in mine, kissing it softly. _How could I let this happen?_ A small hand turns my face, meek eyes meeting mine. _I swear I will protect you my love, and I will never let this happen again._ I take her other hand and place a kiss upon it.  
"Stay here and I will get something for that." I leave and return with a bottle of alcohol and a rag. As I clean up the cut on her cheek and other smaller ones across her forehead, the sight in my bed made me smile. It was almost as if I had found a wandering child in the street. Her face was now striped with clean and dirt, bringing a smile to both of our faces.  
"I think someone could use a bath; I don't want you dirtying my bed any more than you already have."  
"Well! I see you care more for your sheets than me!" and promptly crosses her arms, turning her back to me. _At least they did not break all of her…_  
"Mon beau ange cheri! You know that isn't so!" I playfully pleaded. I moved closer to her, softly wrapping my arms around her boney waist as I cooed softly to her "Would a hot bath and a beautiful song please mon amant le plus mangifuque…?" Her body melted to mine as I purred in her ear.  
"I really need to clean up, I am tired of being a mess. Plus, some beautiful music and handsome company would make everything so much better…" her words dripping from her lips. _Dear Lord above woman…_ I kiss her cheek and scoop her in my arms.  
"You are such the devilish woman; you know that?" She gave me a grin that made me shake my head and sigh. I set her down next to the tub, pulling the screen across to give her privacy. _One day I won't have to…_ I left her to the bath while I flew to my piano grand and began to play the piece I wrote the first night she wandered upon my hiding. The more I played, the smaller my anxieties became and the more I began to think of having a future with Belle. One day I did want to leave the opera house, maybe have a small cottage in Paris; hell maybe buy the opera house out right and run it with her at my side. My full mask that hides all of my deformity has worked before; no one thought me any different from them. Just a tall, handsome man out for a walk among the crowds and venders before the opening of the opera house. Only Antoinette and Meg know the sound of my voice beside the managers, everyone else would be oblivious. _I would be as gentle as a lamb once we married…_ the thought of marriage to Belle made my heart leap for joy, the music following it.  
"Bon sang!" I stop mid measure and rush to the sound. Belle is on her knees in the nightdress, her head leaned against the wall with one hand trying to hold it together. I pick her up and pull her close to me, her pitiful whimpering breaking my heart. "Erik…please…hold me…" I softly kiss her temple as I lay in her in the bed. I change into my nightshirt, letting the fabric fall loosely to my shins. I wrap her in my arms, the soft smell of lavender and mint filling my nose.  
"Take that silly thing off…" her voice gruff like a man.  
"I will frighten you even more…I am nothing but" a pair of chapped lips meet mine, sending my world spinning. I let her remove the mask, freeing me of a crushing weight. She pulls back, a pair of tired, warm blue eyes meeting mine.  
"I want to love all of you, not just part…" I pull her to my chest, placing a long and tender kiss to her forehead. I begin to softly sing, running my finger through her now glossy hair. I look down to see my little angel fast asleep, her body was still and her hands were wrapped around my arm like a child clutching a stuffed animal.  
"One day my sweet, I will be wed to you…" she remains still, the subtle rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life. "I love you Belle…forever and always…" I place another soft kiss to her forehead before pulling her into my chest and drifting off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello my readers! This is the chapter you have been waiting for! Excitement and romance and murder all wrapped into one! Will any one survive? Will this be the end of Belle and her love? This chapter contains both Erik and Belle's POV. Feel free to leave any reviews and comment that you may have. I could really use them to help project the rest of the story. I remain your obedient servant  
~The Southern Rose~**

 **I spent the next 3 days asleep** , and apparently I had a few visitors. Conner and Lukas begged Erik to let them see me, both of them crying at my bedside. Once I finally awoke, there was a large meal and wonderful company awaiting me.  
"Hello my love…" I hear as I stir. My eyes slowly open, Erik's wonderful face coming into view. His soft lips gently press to my forehead, making my heart melt along with the pain. Erik refused to leave my side for more than a moment, caring for me like a newborn. We lay in bed, my head on his bare chest with my hair spilling over his chest and arm, lost in my book. Erik was happily scribbling down a new composition, occasionally looking down and kissing my head. I knew when he would be lost in thought, his free hand would idly play with my hair, nearly putting me to sleep. Erik had a stack of books by the bed, letting me read to my heart's content about the knights of the round table and far away cities in Italy. "May I ask you something?" I was once again lulled to sleep by his alluring humming and his fingers combing through my hair. I look up at him, his smile my favorite thing in the world. "Sorry to wake you my angel, but I've talked to Meg, Badeaux, Leroux, and Madam Giry, and none of them have been able to answer my question. And when I asked it, they were wondering the same thing." He paused to gather his thoughts, softly sighing "You live and work in an opera house, are an incredible musician and dancer, but yet you are the only one who does not sing, not even humming. Not backstage, in ballet practice, why is that?" I froze in mid-paragraph. I closed my book and drew in a long breath,  
"Because, I don't sing." I rolled away from him, hoping he would get the point.  
"But Ma Cherie, I've heard you sing and it makes angels jealous."  
"What do you mean you've heard me sing?" My face hot "I've never sang!"  
"I can hear everything that happens in your room. It echoes through the corridor; those nights you sang Conner to sleep, when you sing while bathing, you truly have a gift. So explain Ma Cherie, why do you not sing in public?" I could feel the tears in my eyes, but I forced them back as he pulled me to him, turning my chin to his face.  
"For the same reason Conner hasn't spoken in the years since our parent's death."  
"Which would be?"  
"My Father and Mother were killed many years ago by a drunken man." The tears were beginning to make reappearance. "Mother was on her way to get Father and to tell him that she'd found him another job, this one as a grounds keeper at another church. 2 years prior, he had a job in Her Majesty's Royal Orchestra, but he was soon replaced by a much better flute player, one who was a native Englishman and not an immigrant. From then on, no one would dare higher a man who was rejected by the English queen. Once Father was replaced, we were forced out of our home and had no place to turn. With the money Father had, he bought us tickets to Paris in hopes of playing in the Opera Garner. The night before his audition you burned the place to hell, sending Father into a drinking and gambling fit. Anyway, after much persuasion by Mother, they left the saloon where Father was gambling and drinking away the last of our money. Just outside the saloon, a man heavily drunken, tried to rob them. Mother refused to give up what money she had left. He offered a handsome sum of money in return for a night with Mother, but she spat in his face and called him something ugly, at least that's what the prostitute said when she screamed for the police. Enraged at Mother, he shot them right then and there; the police were of no help. The man was never found, and my brothers and I spent the next five years paying off Father's debt with interest. Our family tried to run away; Father changed our last name from Winner to Fabre, but somehow that monster found us and cut my brother's tongue out, making him mute forever. I was eighteen when it happened; Father was the one who taught me to play, but it was Mother who could sing. Her voice made angels jealous. Though she was no soprano, the tone she had with her mezzo voice rivaled even Christine. Not singing was my way of grieving for her. When she died, so did my voice and now there is nothing that can bring back my voice. During the first few years, singing was the only thing to help Conner sleep at night." Erik was taken aback. I was doing my best not to cry, but I was trying to win a losing war. "I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to cry but" Erik cut me off.  
"Your brothers aren't here; I don't think you ever had a time to grieve, truly grieve for them. You were too busy trying to keep everything together. Now mon bel ange, just let it go." I curled into his chest, soft, slow tears sliding down my face as he ran gentle fingers through my hair. As I began to regain my composure, he sang a soft melody that I'd heard in the opera house before. I knew the melody by heart, for he constantly played it while I was recovering. Suddenly I felt an overwhelming desire to sing, and like a bird, soared over the notes. At the end, instead of settling in on the middle note, I hit the octave note above. I couldn't believe it; I was really singing again. An idea popped into Erik's mind. "I need to speak with the two 'owners' of my opera house. Come with mon Belle, I want to show them something." We dressed and walked hand in hand to their office where someone was waiting for me, and he was not happy, especially since I just sliced his leg wide open like a Christmas turkey.  
 **"** There she is! The little thief, she owes me money." How he got here I don't wanna know. His partner had a ledger in his hand, and an evil smile across his face. Badeaux walked over to the door and shut it. Erik had not entered the room, he didn't want anyone beside Badeaux and Leroux to know who he was or that he was alive. Then Leroux cleared his throat and asked  
"Is this true Mademoiselle? Do you owe this man money?"  
"Not anymore, I paid off my father's debt months ago; I kept track of it in a ledger that this man signed every time I paid him. Now he's saying that I still owe him?"  
"You do owe me! According to my ledger, you've still to pay me!" he yelled back. Badeaux stepped in  
"Enough Monsieur, now where is this ledger of yours?" DuPont gave him the ledger and he looked it over, flipping several pages. A confused expression covered Badeaux's face as he showed it to Leroux. "Mademoiselle, show us your ledger please?" We filled out of the office and headed for my room. I opened the door and lit a candle as Badeaux, Leroux, DuPont and Foss came rushing in like the wind.  
"I kept it here in my dresser." I opened my dresser and pulled it out, but something was missing. "Wait, where's my drawing journal?" I closed the drawer and handed my ledger to Leroux, who nodded his head. He took the ledger from Badeaux and handed it to me.  
"Is this your journal?" I turned the pages to see all of my drawings, people I saw, many of the Opera Garner, and many more of Erik.  
"Where did you get this?" I said, focusing my attention on Foss and DuPont. They grabbed me and stuck a knife at my neck in one swoop.  
"Get back, everyone! Or she dies." When we left the room, I could hear shoes chasing after me. This man was hell bent on having me for his own.  
"Stop him!" I heard Leroux say. I screamed and swore as I was dragged away like a slave. I clawed at Foss, my nails leaving shallow marks on his skin. As we ran to the door, I struggled to set myself free. We burst through the front doors of the opera house, the steps wet with the melting snow when cold steel made its mark on my side. I screamed, then a cape came flying out of the shadows and one by one, DuPont and Foss came crashing down. Leroux arrived first, then sent Meg to get the police. The last thing I remember were snowflakes, soft and cool snowflakes, but the ground beneath me was warm.

(ERIK)

Just when I thought she was safe, now this. When I saw the man's face, I knew who he was. He was the man who shot that poor couple in the street five years ago. The voice was the same voice that was talking 'business' with that little ballet rat Marie. Now here their daughter was, beautiful and hardworking, and she's laying here, an unfeeling, cold piece of steel sticking out of her like a turkey on Christmas. Once the police arrived, I picked her up and carried her down to my lair. Every second counted now, the more I waited, the closer she grew to death's door. I took her pulse, it was weak, but still there; suddenly she stopped breathing. I ran as fast as my legs would run, hoping that I could save her. My feet stumbled over loose stone, hidden cracks in the walkway, and rats. I laid her on my piano bench and took the knife from her side, which bled profusely. I took my sewing needle Antoinette gave me and sewed the wound closed. I wrapped the wound to stop the bleeding, and it took a few moments before it was contained. Her body lay cold, lifeless on the bench, and that is when I broke down. I couldn't take much more of this. First Christine, now Belle, the difference between them was Belle loved me, truly. Christine I got over, she made her choice. She chose that wealthy, dazzling Vicomte de Chagny fop. So I didn't have the dazzling looks she desired, but gave her all I had; my music. Belle well, hers was made for her, and she sacrificed her life to save her brothers. She provided for them, gave them a home and helped them make a living. How many women can dance like a snowflake in December and make a bedframe from solid wood? The only one I knew lay cold before me. Checking her pulse again, and again, and again before I realized it was gone. I knelt by her side and cried; my life couldn't go on anymore, not without my beautiful angel Belle. I prayed to God "Please, Lord Almighty, return her to me. Your work through her upon this Earth is not complete." I continued to sob, checking her pulse one last time, still nothing. I got up and walked to the water's edge, grabbing my lasso. I ran my hands over its rough fibers. _How fitting for the Phantom of the Opera to die by the noose, his very own noose._ I had the rope in my hand, ready to end all of the pain when life was breathed back into her and she was gasping for every breath.

(BELLE)

I woke up fighting for every breath. After coughing a few times and trying sitting up, I was able to see clearly. I was back in Erik's hideaway and for some reason; he had a noose around his neck he was going to kill himself. He loosened it where he stood and ran to my side, crying like an infant. He picked me up and embraced me in never-ending warmth. I reached up and took his mask from his face, a soft smile on my face as leaned in to kiss his deformed cheek. "Erik…I feel weak…and so cold…" He took me in his arms and lay me in his bed, wrapping around me. I awoke to Erik lifting my dress and cleaning my wound.  
"You usually ask permission before lifting a lady's dress" His head snapped up and was redder than his bedsheets. "Your wound…I…" I gave him a weak smile, placing my hand on his bad cheek and rubbing my thumb across it.  
"From now on, no more wearing the mask when it's just us. I love all of you, not just the good parts." He took my hand, kissing it softly as he put aside the bloody gauze from my wound. Seeing that much blood, MY blood, made me sick at my gut. I turned away, trying not to ruin Erik's sheets. I could feel him pull the covers back, and him slide beside me.  
"It's alright mon amour…I'm right here…" I feel his hand under my chin, turning my face to his. I open my eyes, his smile making everything else melt away. He kisses my forehead, his lips soft and velvety as a rose. He lay back in bed, pulling me into his chest. I let the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

It takes Belle a full month to recover from her wound, my stitching job doing as well as any doctor. This phantom learned a trick or two during my traveling days through Persia and my time with Nadir. Keeping the wound clean was the hardest part; when I stitched her up the first time, I did not think about infection or a dirty blade, which was the case. Her fever was high enough to cook an egg on her forehead as her body shivered violently. She would wake, only for a moment, begging and whimpering for me to hold her, to bring her water before falling back asleep. I employed the help of my old Persian friend for a remedy to ease her pain and clean the infection.  
"It's a good thing the girl is asleep; this is going to be painful for her my masked friend."  
"Let us get it over with." I let Nadir carefully pull her stitches from the skin, a puss-filled mess. Though gore and horror do not frighten me, I turned away at the sight of her wound. I held the tea pot and rag, the brandy on the night table. Nadir took the rag and began to clean the wound, waking Belle and her cries echoed through my abode. I did my best to hold her back as my friend quickly make work of the infected skin.  
"This is going to leave a nasty scar Erik…" I nodded my head and bid him continue, not before grabbing the brandy bottle and helping myself to a long pull. "The brandy is for the girl…" my glare put him back to work as I placed the bottle back on the table. Soon the wound was clean and the stitches replaced. I paid my friend what he was due and sent him on his way. "Don't be a stranger my fine friend, do drop by. Just remember to leave your noose at home heh?" I rolled my eyes as I turned my attentions back to my beloved. Within the day her fever was more manageable and by the next afternoon it finally broke, her blue eyes meeting mine once again. She had all but moved out of the room up above and in with me below, using the room to crash in if the night was long. Once she was fully recovered, I let her return to the world above.  
"I owe you everything Erik." She purred, her head on my chest as we settle in for the night.  
"Anything for you, mon amour." I kissed her forehead, her sigh ringing in my ears.  
"I heard above that the managers actually fired Carlotta, just like that!" I laughed and rolled my eyes  
"If they did, it would be a miracle in heaven. In any case, I will want to meet this new leading lady if she is to sing in my opera house." Belle's soft giggle makes my heart melt. I pull her up to me, rolling on my side to see her smiling face. "You are the most beautiful thing mon ange…" Her cheeks flush the color of a rose as I lean in to kiss her, oh god how I want more! I feel her tongue flick against mine, her hand reaching around me and pulling me in. _Don't tempt me my love…_ but yet she did anyway. I kiss her again, slowly, passionately, lustfully… _One! Two! Three! …_ the clock begins to ring out the time, ending on eleven. I pull away against the desire of my body. "You start work tomorrow mon amoureaux, you need to rest."  
"Oh all right…" her playfulness urging me even more. I give her one last kiss before blowing out the candle and wrapping my arms around her, playfully sliding my hands under her gown and tracing her scar.

Morning came early, at least for one of us. By the time I rolled over, Belle had already gone for the day, a single red rose on her pillow beside me. I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. I sit up and stretch my back, popping in several places. I walk about my abode, humming in a cheerful mood, contrary to my dismal and dark home. I dress in usual clothes, then polish my half mask to its ghostly luster. To the rest of the world I am the deadly opera ghost who kills without a thought, but to one I am as gentle as a lamb, protective of her like a wolf. I decide to take the passage through the mirror, being the quickest to the performance hall.  
"No, the paintings shall be hung over there." A small voice catches my ear.  
"That's what Madame said, the rose painting was to be by the vanity." A male voice echoes in reply. _Someone is moving in; it must be the new prima donna. Maybe now shall be a good chance to make myself known to her…_ I start to skip steps, my feel lighter than the whispers that fill the hallway.  
"Make sure the cradle is by my bed girls, for Gustave's sake." My heart stops quicker than my feet can. I can see the light of day and candles through the mirror. The voice clear as day and breaking my ears. _Oh God in heaven it can't be…_ I wait for the voice to sound through. All I hear is the 'oui Madame' and more shuffling of boxes.  
"It can't be true!" either I was thinking aloud or I was screaming.  
"Meg! Yes, it is true my dear old friend; I have returned to sing in the house that started my career." _You have got to be kidding me! The did fire Carlotta, but replaced her with…_ I descend back into the darkness, taking the land bridge across to the opera house, landing directly under the orchestra pit. I make my way through the storage rooms and up to my box. I see Badeaux and Leroux take the stage, calling everyone's attention.  
"As you may well know, Señoria Carlotta will no longer be the leading soprano here at the Opera Garner." A hushed whisper falls over the crowd. Leroux puts a hand up "But fear not, for a new leading soprano will be sure to outshine Carlotta as she did one before on this stage." Badeaux comes forward, his round belly pressing against his suspenders.  
"May I present, Madame Christine de Changy!" Christine comes from backstage, her hair just as thick and curly as ever as it cascades down her back, her doe eyes warm as her smile. Behind her is that fop of a husband holding a blue bundle in his arms. Her wide smile seems to captivate everyone, everyone that is except for one little auburn headed dancing girl. I could see the shock in her face, the dresses in her arms falling to the floor. The head seamstress barreled over to the girl, her movements large and boisterous as Belle scooped the bundles of costumes in her hands. "And in honor of her return; we shall be putting on Hannibal!" _No, anything but that…_ The crowd is soon dismissed to their work, Madame's cane echoing through the bustling. I rush out of my box and up to the catwalks as I hear the familiar notes of Hannibal begin to ring from the orchestra. I see Christine wander through the sets, her finger brushing over the dusty paint as she blows it away.  
"I TOLD YOU TO BE MORE CAREFUL!" everyone's head snapping to the booming voice.  
"Madame Lieu please, I told you I was sorry!"  
"You KNOW that pink is NOT a color that cleans easily!" Everyone gathered around the dueling duo. "You will not rest or eat until you have cleaned every spot from this dress AND the other costumes you ruined!" Alyssa's gown from act III, a beautiful blush colored gown that once dazzled in the glow of a young girl wowed the crowd with her stellar voice. All anyone could see was a plump woman with a bundle of salt and peppered hair piled on her head. "And if you find that you can't clean it, you will remake them ALL!" She walked away, the sight now clear. Several bottles of wine lay on the floor, most of its content on the marvelous gown as other costumes were pattered with the scarlet liquid. The crowd soon dispersed, leaving her without a second glance. I was half way down the rope when a bundle of brunette curls stepped in front of me.  
"How could you let this happen?" A pair of beautiful blue eyes look up, frustrated. "Next time do be careful; I don't want my costumes being ruined." Soon the head of curls left, the blue blanketed bundle in her arms as the fop followed. _Christine was never that cold, being with that fop has changed her heart._ I soon make my way down the rope, trying to be as silent and invisible as one can in a busy opera house.  
"Let me help you my dear." I kiss her hand and help her gather the costumes into the seamstress office.  
"None of this is my fault… that pompous windbag was carrying several bottles of wine she stole from the kitchen!"  
"Don't worry my love, everything will be taken care of." I kiss her softly, the small room giving us some privacy. "I have something for you my love. But it will have to wait until after work." I give her a loving kiss before disappearing into the shadows. "Always know that I love you my dear…" I whisper as she is flooded with work. I keep a close eye on her all through the rehearsal as she worked. She received several sideways glances, most of them coming from Christine. A woman stagehand was not what she was expecting during their first encounter. By the time the day was done, I could tell my girl was in need of a good night's rest. She slowly puts up the dresses and costumes and starts her trek home.  
"Tell me, why are you a stagehand dear?" Christine startles Belle.  
"OH! Madame de Changy. I am a stagehand because that is what I was hired for." Soon two brown headed boys join her side, one pulling on her hand and giving a large yawn. She looks down at Conner, giving him a warm smile before kissing his head.  
"You…have a child…?" Belle shakes her head as she laughs, stray hairs coming loose from her bun. Lukas taps his sister on the shoulder, and through translation laughs as well.  
"Meet my younger brothers Lukas and Conner." The doe's eyes grow wide.  
"Oh." She promptly replies, adjusting her dress. "Well you have still to answer my question." Belle sighs and whispers something to Lukas, who lead Conner away with the promise of a story later.  
"I am a stagehand because I am a good carpenter."  
"I see…and you, stay with the stagehands do you?" _My dear Vicomtess, you are getting quite nosy…_  
"No I do not." Her eyes beg Belle tell her more before flitting to the ribbon in her hair. "I did have what once was your room, but now I have moved elsewhere."  
"Such an interesting choice of ribbon. Black is not usually appropriate unless someone had died." My heart begins to pound. _Leave her alone you tramp…_  
"Do forgive me Madame, but I need to be going. You know how it is, long days in the opera house and all." She gives a quick curtsy before turning and leaving. Her feet fall silent on the floor as she makes her way to the musician dorm with me close behind her. Thankfully she is in and out quickly, Conner already asleep I assume. I catch her at the door, covering her mouth with my hand to muffle a possible scream. She fights me tooth and nail, clawing and screaming through my gloved hand. I pull her into the light of a torch and turn her to me.  
"Calm down mon amour, it's only me." She freezes in place as I move my hand away. Her eyes well up with tears.  
"Erik she knows, she knows!"  
"Shhhh… don't give it a second thought mon ange… nothing will happen I promise."  
"Promise me you don't love her anymore…?" Her words cut like a knife, a sharp, deep knife into my past. There were days I wished that once upon another time our story was different. But now, now I had Belle. And she is all I want. I pull her into my arms and kiss her with all I have.  
"I love you more than anything Belle." I pull the black ribbon from her hair, letting the rivers of auburn cascade down her back. "This is the girl I love. I want to love all of you not just part." Her smile and sigh of relief all I need to hear. I scoop her in my arms, her head settling on my chest as I carry her. Before we even cross the land bridge she is fast asleep, her arms around my neck.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello my readers! I apologize for the delay, I have been very busy with school and just took my last test before the final in about a month. This chapter is extra-long to make up for the absence. I am honored to have so many readers from so many different places! Please feel free to leave any and all reviews, I am at a point where I really need advice on where to go with the story, up until this point most of the story has been pre-written (minus Erik's chapters) so postings may take a little longer. To review: I do NOT own any of the Leroux/ Webber character, then only ones I do own are my OC. Feel free to message me with any ideas. I remain your obedient servant,  
~The Southern Rose~**

 **I was covered in sweat** , wood shavings, paint, and everything imaginable. The sets were not to Badeaux and Leroux liking so they made us fix them for their new prima donna. I just roll my eyes and do as I am told, I really don't know who is worse; Carlotta and all her raving or Christine and her passive aggressiveness hidden behind an angelic smile. There is one thing I had to admit about having the Vicomtess here; at least she was truly pleasing to listen to. Her voice was a beautiful soprano without being shrill and window shattering. During rehearsal everyone would quickly hush when she began to sing, especially her solo from act III. I spend days on end trying to clean the wine stains from her blush colored gown; so much so that I had my own cot moved into the seamstress's office. After days of soaking the fabric in baking soda from the kitchen and scrubbing and washing until my hands were raw, I got most of the stain out, a few faint blotches where the wine was concentrated.  
"And what, pray tell, are you going to do about these?!" her long finger rubbing my nose in the faint stains.  
"I was hoping to add some fabric over the faded stains, creating a gown fit for a queen; or in our case, a Vicomtess." My attempt to soothe the savage seamstress seemed to suffice. For she nodded her head and snapped her finger, my queue to get back to work. I spent the rest of rehearsal in the office, the gown on a mannequin and my fingers gingerly working. The sound of a cane bringing me back from my work induced daze.  
"That shall be all for today ladies and remember to grab your costumes before you leave!" _Madame why do you torture me so!_ I hear the patter of ballerina slippers as bobs of brunette, blonde, and black come bouncing.  
"Ladies your costumes are in order by last names over on the…" but I am ignored and pasted over like a street beggar. Sighing, I return back to the grand gown for the prima donna, adding the last few touches.  
"Is that her gown?!" I hear one rat cry, the rest of the pack following her to my corner of privacy.  
"Girls don't touch!" Meg scolds, their claws retracting. She shoos them from the room with their costumes in tow.  
"Thank you Meg." I cut the thread and put the needle back in the tomato.  
"It's me who should be thanking you. Knowing her dress is even more beautiful than before will hopefully put her in a good mood." I cock my head to the side. Meg turns red as my tomato and whispers to me. "Things between them are not… ideal…" I begged her continue. "Well, ever since the baby was born Raoul has drastically changed. Drinking and gambling like a madman! People have been begging Christine to come back to sing, but they have all forgotten the Vicomte. He is jealous like a certain once was phantom, the one you have been seeing." My eyes go wide. I swore to keep him a secret, to keep him safe.  
"Please…don't tell anyone…" her hard look remains, shaking her head.  
"Now that she is back, you will only be a distant memory." She turns on her toes and walks out, her gauzy skirt lifeless. I run through the halls. _She's lying, she has to be…_ I somehow manage to grab a candle in all of my rush, turning around corner and darting through hallway. _She's lying, he loves me! …doesn't he…?_ The rustle of fabric catches my attention; my candle is the only source of light and the dark feels like a blanket trying to smother me out. Soon my candle is joined by another, I turn and am greeted by a glimpse of a blade glistening in the limited light. I dodge it long enough to grab my own and fight back. Once the steel of the two blades collided, I held my candle up to see the face of my attacker.  
"Qui en enfer!?" but Erik stopped when he saw my face in the candle light with a knife raised in defense. Our knives and candles hit the floor as we embrace each other. "Mon ange, I'm so sorry, I.."  
"Mon amour it's ok, we couldn't see because of the dark… we are both still spooked about what happened…." All we could do is hold each other.  
"Belle what are you doing here?" he softly whispered. I shook my head, pressing my forehead into his chest. _I can't lose you, I just can't…_ I feel his lips kiss my hair.  
"I love you so much Erik…" a hand slides under my chin and pulls my eyes upward. I see his neatly smoothed back hair, skin more porcelain than mine, a mask as ghostly as his reputation, and a pair of ice blue eyes. His lips softly kiss my hand as he leads me back to our home under the opera house. I slip into my nightgown, a pair of hands sliding around my waist and pulling me back.  
"I love you too mon Cherie…." His lips press against my cheek as I am led to bed. We curl up for the night, but not for long. I awake in a panic, yet another nightmare. I can hardly breath and I am drenched in sweat. Erik is rolled on his back in a death like state. _How I wish I could sleep like him…_ I get up and kiss his cheek softly before putting on my cloak and going for a walk. Though I may be free from DuPont and Foss, they still have my mind in their grip. I can't sleep, I hardly eat and in every dark corner of the opera house, every shadow and every silent space they lurk; waiting for the perfect time to strike.  
"Belle, darling?" a sleepy voice calls out to me. I softly call back, wrapping my arms around myself as the cold of the night soaks through my cloak. I see him walk around the corner, a long candle in one hand and a longer expression on his face. "Why are you here mon amour? It's late…" His arms reach around me, a kiss placed on my head.  
"I couldn't sleep so I though taking a walk would help. I came down here so not to disturb you while you slept…"  
"You had another nightmare mon amour?" Erik finished. I nodded, almost shameful. He took my hand and led me back to his hideaway. He placed me at the piano and told me to play what he had written. "I'm in a bid of a bind. You see, Ma Cherie, I cannot seem to finish this piece. I have been working nonstop for what seems like an eternity..." He yawned in mid thought. I nodded my head, understanding what he meant; he needed a fresh perspective. I smoothed out my night gown and sat on my bench. Since Erik is a good foot plus taller than I, I built my own bench for when we play together. I let my fingers glide over the keys as I read the music. A few measures before I got to where Erik ended, I changed keys and added a counter melody. I looked back at him, who was wide eyed like a child at Christmas. He jogged to the piano and took over the counter while I continued with the main. We played for what seemed like hours until I added a retardando and finished it. Erik took my face in his hand and kissed me. I kissed back, but not before yawning once. "Why don't you get some rest ma amour."  
"But what if Conner wakes up screaming? Or rehearsal begins earlier than planned? Or" Erik shut me up with another kiss, this one with more passion than the first.  
"Belle look at me. You need to sleep. On the rare times I get to see you, you look like as pail as a ghost."  
"But I can't. He still"  
"Haunts you I know. But if you don't sleep, you will hurt yourself even more." Every time I tried to move something, I would shake and become dizzy. I shook my head and began to walk back to the bridge. Erik looked at me in dismay, then began to scribble what we had just played on his score. I don't walk very far, just out of Erik's sight. I find the one spot where the lake met the stone path to the bridge and sat down. I slip my shoes off and stick my feet in the water. The water hasn't warmed any, and the first day of spring is on the threshold. I can here Erik playing our duet and tweaking trouble spots. I hummed along and let my legs swing to the beat, my feet creating small waves in the lake. I replayed the past three months in my mind; from the night of the play, to Erik's gift, to being kidnapped. My ears caught something that I thought I would never hear; I thought my mind was playing tricks on me but it happened again. I stood up to see what was happening then the music just stopped. I halted in my steps. I let out a sigh and began returning to my seat by the lake. _Erik has probably gone to bed._ _Well, I guess great minds think alike._ Curious, I walked back to the piano and looked at his score. When I sat on Erik's bench, one of the legs moved. I put the music back on the stand and flipped the bench on its top. I touched the leg and it again moved. I tried to twist it to tighten it back in place but this wasn't made that way. I would need to fill this with my form of adhesive. I walked to the piano and grabbed a spare ribbon. Tying my hair back, I began to make a plan on how to fix this. When I took a closer look, all of the legs were in need of repair, the top was beginning to splinter and had a large crack in the trim. _Why repair when I can make him a new one?_ I run back to my spot and thankfully Erik has gone to bed. I leave a note on his bench saying to come find me tomorrow. Changing to a set of fresh work clothes, I tip toe to the workshop and begin to make his new bench. In a few hours, I had the basic shape done. The clock said it was only four in the morning. I then add detailing to the legs and hollow out the seat so he can store music, paper and pencils. By seven, when rehearsal was starting, I had a bench fit for a king. Elegant scroll work all down the legs, on the sides of the bench and even his name etched into the seat. I quickly carried the bench back to my room and made it back in time for rehearsal. Lukas and Conner were wondering why I was covered in wood shavings this early in the morning. I laughed and said 'It's all part of the job!" The storm continued and the roof was leaking in places. While some of the guys were sent to fix that, I was left to carry their weight. If Erik was in his box, I didn't see him. Since they had a difficult time with the roof, we were given the rest of the day off. After a hearty lunch, I went back to my room. I cleaned up and got my flute out. Erik had written me new music several days ago and I couldn't wait to play it. After finishing the first song, my mirror began to move. Erik was in his casual clothes but is face said otherwise.  
"What was this for?" He said my note in his hand. I set my flute on the bed and walked to the closet. Before I could reach it, he grabbed me by the waist. "You still owe me, my dear." I turned my head to see Foss's head on Erik's body. I struggled to get free but he was to strong. He flung me on the bed. I went to get up but he was on top of me. "There is one way you can repay me" and he began to kiss me. I screamed, then I jerked awake; a thunder clap echoing through my room. I was still in my room, my flute across my lap. I grabbed a candle, the bench and went to see Erik. I was to the edge lake when I saw Erik on the boat. I hid the bench and waited for him for him to dock.  
"I got your note, what do you need?"  
"Close your eyes." A puzzled looked played across his face. "Just trust me." He nodded and closed his eyes. I took his hands and led him to where I hid the bench. "Ok now open." When he did, he dropped to his knees. He ran his hands over the scroll work. He opened the seat and was amazed at the room inside.  
"Mon amour, where did you get this?" I smiled,  
"I made this." His head jerked up. He put it in the boat and we rowed across the lake. Once we made it to the hideaway, I moved his old one and put it into the closet. I came back to see Erik enjoying his new 'toy.' He began to play the duet from last night, and this time, he didn't miss a note. I joined him and we played like never before. When we finished, he had a tear in his eye.  
"I can't thank you enough for the wonderful bench mon petit ange..." I stood up.  
"You're quite welcome…" I walked over to the picture of me in the frame, still trying to shake myself of the dream. I could hear him stand up and walk toward me. I let out a long sigh. Erik wrapped me in his arms and rested his chin on my head. He whispered  
"It's him isn't it?" I nodded my head. "He's dead, and unless the dead can come back to life, Ma Cherie, I don't think you have anything to worry about." I began to yawn. Erik didn't even ask; he just scooped me up and carried me to his room. He placed me in his bed, pulling the covers over me. He went to leave when I said "Stay with me?" I pleaded.  
"I will, but I need to change." He returned wearing a sheer white shirt and black pants. He crawled into the bed and blew out the candle. "I sent Badeaux and Leroux a letter saying you are sick and need a few days off." I rolled to face him.  
"Thank you." I whispered. I drifted to sleep but again, awoke with a start. I could feel Foss's body on mine. Erik woke up too.  
"Him again?"  
"Yes" my voice shaking. Erik sat up and turned my face to see his. He put his arm over me and said  
"It's ok, I'm here." I looked at him and kissed him. He kissed me back harder. I leaned back until my head hit the pillow. I pulled Erik to me and kissed him again. He put an arm under me, making my back arch. This was the first time since that horrible night that I've felt safe and peaceful. Erik slipped a hand under my night gown, caressing my back and stomach. I pulled his shirt off and took him in my arms. He dug his fingers into my shoulders as I kissed his neck. I could hear him sighing in my ear, his hot breath making my skin rise. I wanted him so badly, and I could tell he wanted the same. His other hand joined in and explored my body, making me shiver. I looked into his light blue eyes, the grin on his face making me melt…the same grin Foss wore…soon everything about his face mirrored that monster. Panic flooded my mind as I began to squirm and whimper in fear. I closed my eyes tightly.  
"Belle mon ange… what's…" I opened my eyes, to my relief Erik's handsome face had come back. He gave me that sweet, darling smile only he could manage and kissed my cheek. Rolling me on my stomach, he unbuttoned the back of my dress, sliding the top off and began to rub my shoulders. A soft sigh of content and relief escaped my lips. Like magic the pain in my body seem to disappear as he worked down my back and back up again, planting a kiss on my shoulder when he finished. He then took me in his arms and held me until I fell asleep. That night was the first in many nights that I slept soundly.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 (Erik POV)

 _WHY WHY WHY?! Of all people to hire why did it have to be her?! I didn't actually think those two twist would actually FIRE Carlotta!_ All I can do is shake my head as I watch the rehearsal from my box. Her eyes flit up to my box; trying to see if the opera ghost still exists. _Oh yes my dear I do exit, alive and well. But for your sake, I am dead to you…_ I get up to leave when a familiar aria begins to play and a voice like an angel ringing through the now hushed stage.  
' _Think of me, think of me fondly…'_ I freeze in my tracks. Her voice revives a part of my soul that I thought was once dead forever. Her music breathes life into my soul, music unlike any other, music different from Belle… My eyes dart to my little stagehand, her hands full with ropes and pushing sets as her auburn hair comes loose from her bun. I look back to Christine, still singing her aria for the new managers, almost like déjà vu. Once a young, shy girl who was taking lessons from a mysterious teacher is now a beautiful and confident woman shining like the star she is. Two women, two different lives, and the only common thread is this opera house and I. I listen to the prima donna's aria, the notes ringing pure and clean before ending. The cast and staff erupt in applause, the orchestra too going wild over her performance, everyone except one young stagehand.  
"Excellent Madame! Simply divine!"  
"Yes mon cher, very divine in deed! I think that will be all the rehearsal for today. Do enjoy the rest of the night off." Everyone is thrilled to have the evening, many of the ballerinas rushing to the wings of the stage to change, the stagehands waiting for the rats to scurry from their holes for a night of less than reputable things. One day I will fire all of these rats and scum of the earth from my opera house. Soon I will have only artist as dedicated and devoted as I am to the art of the opera, the beauty of the sets, to the detail in the costumes and the heavenly sounds from the orchestra and singers.  
"I knew I would find you here…" I stay still in my chair.  
"Old habit do die hard." I keep my voice cold and flat. I hear the click of heels slowly approach, stopping just behind my chair.  
"I knew somehow you would survive, Erik." Hearing her say my name, my heart stopped beating. The one voice I yearned for, the voice I obsessed over day and night was now the one voice I hated, next to that fop husband of hers. I remain silent. "3 years and silence is the only way you can greet me?" I roll my eyes  
"If I remember correctly, you left me for that rich vicomte. How would you expect me to greet you?" Her soft sigh made the hair on my neck stand on end, _leave now like you did then…leave me and never return…_  
"I was frightened, and he was my comfort…" I cut her off  
"Not to mention handsome and rich…" I stand to face her, her doe eyes wide with fear. _Good, you should be fearing me…_ She slowly began to back step. "Listen here you little witch, you are not here because I asked for you. You are here because the managers hired you…" she soon stopped in her tracks, tears on the verge of falling from her eyes.  
"I am here because Raoul needs…" she paused, "We need the money…" _Oh how interesting. Trouble brewing in paradise…_ My eyebrow arches in curiosity.  
"Do I detect trouble in paradise?" my mouth curls into a wicked grin as the doe begins to back away. The corners of her rose lips harden.  
"At least it is better than being alone like you! Alone in that sad, cold, depressing cave you skulk around in and try to pass off as a home." _Oh my dear but I am not alone, I have long since moved on from you…_ My smile broadens, as I take a step closer to her.  
"Tell me Christine, what is it like being married to a man who lives in jealousy of your talent?" Her brown eyes stay locked with mine. "Does he drink away his jealousy? Or perhaps he gambles away his sorrow, the thrill of winning his only companion." The coo of an infant begins to softly rise. "And I see you are a mother now, aren't we the busy girl…" She turns on her heel, picking up the child from a basket on the floor.  
"Gustave is our son. Raoul loved me enough to give us a child."  
"Loved? Has his love left you dear child?" Seeing her face grow white bring a twisted happiness to my soul. She clutches the child to her chest, placing a motherly kiss upon his forehead. "Raoul has always been jealous of your beautiful talent Christine, but you were to blind to see it. He used you only to try and capture me; and he failed." She shook her head slowly.  
"You used me for your own glory! Making me your puppet since you couldn't step into a room without…"  
"Without what? Without having every person crying out in fear and disgust?! Or have you forgotten…" with that she darts from the box, the baby and basket in tow. _Good, leave me and never return…_ I leave the box, my head spinning of the encounter. I duck down empty hallways, my cape flowing behind me, talking a small candle with me from the hall. Up ahead of me is another light and the figure of a woman, a candle in her hand. I slowly pull my knife from my sheath and inch toward the little rat. _You will learn not to lurk in places you are not allowed…_ I slowly raise my knife when steel matches mine. "Qui en enfer!?" I call out, shoving the candle in the face of the rat. The glint of the candle reflects like golden sunshine in her auburn hair as her blue eyes dazzle in the light. The knives and candles fall to the ground like rocks in a pond. I pull her into my chest, my hand balled in a fist with her hair. "Mon ange, I'm so sorry, I…" her hands slide under my coat and pull me to her  
"Mon amour it's ok, we couldn't see because of the dark…we are both still spooked about what happened…" I feel her press her forehead into my chest, her body shaking. I softly plant a kiss atop her head. I look out into the abyss of darkness, a pair of eyes glaring at us, a pair of doe brown eyes… "I love you so much Erik…" her voice shaken and soft. I see the eyes go wide before disappearing into the abyss. _I will protect Belle at all cost from that bitch…_ Taking her chin in my hand and guide her worried eyes to mine as I place a gentle kiss to her hand, I soon lead her away from the trouble of the surface to our home… _Our home, ours and ours alone…_ Just the thought of sharing a home and a life with her makes me smile for joy as we curl in bed together. I make sure to pull her into my chest, hearing her soft sigh as she curls into my warmth. She's the real reason why I can truly sleep at night like a normal person. With her by my side, I feel like I could sleep for an eternity… one day I will marry that girl, give her all that she ever wanted or needed and make sure she never lacks for anything. I dream that night of her beautiful silhouette walking down a church isle, her dress white as snow with her auburn hair softy curled and slightly pinned back, stray strands framing her face as her blue eyes dazzle. Soft white lace gracing her peach skin and laying beautifully against her body as she slowly walks down the aisle, deep red roses in her hand. As she meets me at the front of the church, the kiss she places on my cheek is almost real… the sound of the door closing pulls me from my dream. I roll over, only to find the bed cool. I put on my coat, pushing the door open. I see the tail end of a tattered black cloak turn the corner into the living area.  
"Belle, darling?"  
"Over here love…" I turn the corner, her arms wrapped around her to keep out the cold. _Oh my darling… my sweet…_ I wrap around her and kiss her head.  
"It's late mon amour, why are you here…?"  
"I couldn't sleep to I thought a walk would help, I didn't want to disturb you…" I squeeze her tight, softly rocking her in my arms.  
"Another nightmare mon amour…?" She sheepishly nods. I lead her back to the living area and set her at the piano, smoothing out her hair. I explain to her my predicament, hoping to finish a piece I wanted to write just for her. She quickly goes to work like only she can, letting her soul fill with music, and the music she brings fill mine. Every trick, every lesson, every piece of advice I gave her in our lessons she lets flow from her fingers and like only she can, adds the missing piece to the music. I quickly join in, continuing the counter melody, following her every lead until the piece came to a close. _Dear God above! If angels do exist than God has granted me his best!_ I pull Belle into my arms, kissing her with all I have, only when we pulled away did I remember how to breathe. I gave a long yawn "Ma amour you need your rest as much as I do…" She begins to protest me  
"What about Conner? Or rehearsals? What if she finds me and has me fired or" I press my lips to hers, my tongue lightly flicking against hers.  
"Belle look at me. You need to sleep. You are as pail as a ghost on the rare times I see outside of coming home…"  
"But I can't! He still"  
"Haunts you I know ma amour." I brush away her hair and smile. She shakes her head and walks off, leaving me to my music. I begin to play over our beautiful duet, swaying back and forth until my bench moved, my hand sliding to the wrong keys. I tried again and the bench moved even more. I swore under my breath and gave up for the night. Weather Belle returned to bed or not I didn't know or care at this point. It wasn't until I woke to a letter on my bench that I knew she didn't sleep. I spent the day working on my music, that damned bench moving on its own accord and fouling up my music. _DAMN YOU! You cursed bench!_ Throwing my music and parchment aside, I decide to see what mayhem awaits me above. A beautiful head of auburn comes into view, her arms full as she hides something in the shadows. "I got your note, what do you need?" she bids me close my eyes. _My love I am not in the mood for games mon amour…_ I roll my eyes and indulge her as she leads me out of the boat.  
"Ok, now open." My eyes open to a beautiful new bench, one fit for a royal. My knees go weak as I run my fingers over the scrollwork, and the seat even opens to store parchment and quills and ink and pencils.  
"Mon amour, where did you get this?"  
"I made this." I snap my head to her, her smile making me melt. I quickly put the kingly bench in the boat along with my love and row across. Throwing the old one into the closet for kindling, I make use of my new, beautiful toy. I missed not one note as the beautiful melody rang through the cool evening air.  
"I can't thank you enough for the wonderful bench mon petit ange…"  
"You're quite welcome…" her voice is soft, skittish. I wrap my arm around her, resting my chin on her head. I assure her that unless the dead can come back from the dead, she was quite safe, especially in my arms. For the first time in weeks she gives a yawn as I scoop her in my arms and carry her to bed. She doesn't sleep for long, her scream waking me. Her breathing was as shallow as Christine's attitude. I pull her into me, her soft lips meeting mine slowly. I kiss her harder, slowly pushing her back into the bed. I slide my hands under her silk nightgown, letting my hands wander on her soft skin as she pulls my shirt off, leaving me in my black pants. _Oh you woman…_ my fingers dug into her shoulder, wanting her more and more…wanting all of her... Her eyes burned into mine, but soon lost their luster and began to whimper and cry.  
"Belle mon ange…" her eyes flash open, her whimpering subsiding. I brush away her hair, giving her a reassuring smile as I kiss her cheek and roll her on her stomach. I gently begin to massage her back, at an attempt to calm her nervous mind, her sigh being my sign of a job well done. She soon falls asleep in my arms, breathing slowly and softly for the first time in weeks.


	20. Chapter 20

**Good evening my readers! I hope you all are having a wonderful week (I hope someone is at least). Given I am posting this at midnight on Tuesday (Now Wednesday) I wish you all a happy hump day (Insert annoying camel here). I do promise this story has a happy ending, and I also promise sweet revenge. I do apologize for the lateness of my post, I had to do some cleaning on my laptop; you never know how much someone takes up in your life until they leave. I read in an article that the best way to help yourself after a fallout is to have a 'funeral' for your now 'dead' relationship, which is what I did. It's been 2 months to the day that my bf left me, and now I am having a funeral for all the pictures I had of him. I said a few words, cried a little then after putting them all in one file, deleted them and erased them from my recycling bin. This chapter mirrors the pain I have been trying to suppress for the past 2 months. Mostly, my release has been writing this story; what better way to use all my anger that to use it for good. As always, feel free to leave any comments/ reviews for me, I could really use them. I have an idea of where I want to lead and end the story, but I work better off of other's inputs, just how my engineering brain works. I remain your obedient (and semi-emotional) servant;  
~The Southern Rose~**

 **Spring did not come early in Paris** , it lasted longer than usual. Many of the staff at the Opera populare were violently sick; coughing, sneezing, chills, aching the list goes on and on. Badeaux and Leroux had to close the opera populare for a full month for everyone to recover. Madame Giry had me tending to the ballerinas when she was too ill to care for them herself. As luck would have it, Conner and Lukas managed to catch strep throat at the same time. I put them both in the seamstress room and did my best to keep them from everyone else. Once I got them both to sleep, I took my cloak and hurried to Erik, desperate for his help. Every doctor and apothecary in Paris was overrun with sick people and could barely keep medication in stock. I knew several herbal remedies, but they were barely working to keep fevers down and coughing to a minimum. Taking the land route to his abode, I hoped he too had not become sick. I crossed the bridge and to my relief, I could hear him happily humming away. I dare not interrupt his music, the last time I did I was called everything but a Christian woman. I stood behind him as he hummed his melody, closing my eyes and letting the music ease my mind. The melody was quickly shot down by a deep, barking cough, leaving Erik doubled over his piano. I ran to his side, letting him use me as a crutch.  
"Oh mon amour, not you too…" I put a hand to his forehead, burning like the fires of hell. His skin was paler than the porcelain mask he wore trying to cover the scars from his surgery. I slowly led him to his bed and sat him on its edge, easing him into his bed. He rolled away from me and let out another deep, barking cough, flam spewing from his mouth. I removed his mask and set it on his nightstand, shaking my head, _I can't care for all of you..._ I took my apron and wiped his mouth, rolling him on his back. His eyes were no longer shinning, they were dull like death. "I'm here my sweet, let me get you some tea for your cough." He nodded his head, unable to speak. I quickly returned with a pot of seeping mint, honey, and ginger. "Can you sit up for me mon amour?" I helped him up slowly, putting an extra pillow behind him to support his weight. Taking a cup in my hands, I held it to his lips, letting him drink what he could. Shortly after his cough returned, just as strong and deep. I again wiped his mouth with my apron and had him drink the tea. "You need to rest my dear…" I eased him back down, kissing his forehead gently. He managed a weak smile before his cough returned, weakened but none the less deep. I waited until he fell asleep and went back to check on my brothers, making sure to scald my hands before touching them. They were getting worse, pale as Erik and twice as weak. Upon further examination, I could see a small red rash starting to appear on their chest. _Oh God…no please…._ I raced out of the room, trying not to scream. I didn't care how much it cost me, I needed a doctor and fast. I gathered all my money and what things I could sell and set out. By the time I left the shops, I had only the dress on my back and mother's necklace. My books and drawings were gone along with my flute. _Please let this be enough…_ I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A small opening creaked as a pair of black eyes stared me down.  
"What do you want?" the voice cold.  
"I need a doctor quickly; my brothers are sick…I am willing to pay up front…" I held up the bag. The eyes widened as the small opening slammed shut, the door flying open. The old doctor snatched my bag and counted out most of my money before shoving it in his pocket, grabbing his bag and closing his door.  
"Where to mamselle?" I led him back to the opera house and up to the office, where Conner and Lukas were struggling to breath. He quickly went to work examining them, heaven knows how helpless I felt. Their own sister and I can't even care for them. I paced back and forth just inside the door for what seemed like ages. _How can I get the doctor to see Erik? He might think is suspicious that a masked man lives under the opera house… maybe_ the doctor put a hand to my shoulder, breaking my thought. "Can we speak outside?" He opened the door for me, following me out.  
"Well? Is it…?" I couldn't bear to say the words. The old doctor sighed and nodded.  
"The little one won't make it, and I'm not sure if the older one will either. If you follow me back to my practice, I can give you some medication that I know will help, but it may be too late. I am so sorry mademoiselle; scarlet fever is deadly if it's not caught early." I bit my lip to keep from crying. _First my parents, now my brothers…_ The doctor turned to leave when I caught his arm.  
"Please, here is all I have left. My…fiancé is sick as well…please?" He sighed as he took the money. I moved the mirror in Christine's room, the diva spending the month with her husband in southern France, and led him down the stairs. I didn't bother to look behind me, I didn't want to see his face nor did I care. If he wanted to leave then he was free to do so. Once I got to the land bridge I turned to see if the doctor was still behind me. At first I was alone, then slowly the elderly man appeared around the corner, his forehead glistening in the torch light. I closed my eyes and sighed as I waited for him to catch up to me. _I am going to have to pay him more to keep him quiet…_ I clutched my necklace and led him to Erik's bedroom. He was just as I left him, asleep. I hurried to the nightstand and slid his mask in the drawer, the doctor coming behind me to check the patient. I watched the man look over Erik, taking just as much care with him as my brothers.  
"Good news, he only has a severe cold due to the changing seasons." He reached in his bag and pulled out a bottle. "Put 2 spoon-full of this in his tea twice a day for 2 weeks. It will taste awful so be sure to add a little sweetness to it." I took the bottle and set it on the nightstand. "That medication isn't free mademoiselle, and I only take money." His eyes on my necklace. I bit my lip hard as I took it off and handed it to him. "Thank you" his voice cold. I showed him the way out and followed him to his office where he gave me two more bottles for Lukas and Conner. "Give them a spoonful every 4 hours, and pray God saves them. Adiue mademoiselle." He swept me out of his office and on to the street. The sun began to set once I returned to the opera house, which was filled with coughing and soft moans of pain. I grabbed a spoon from the kitchen and returned to the room. Lukas and Conner were now red like fire, their fevers even hotter. I fed them each their medicine and put cool rags on their foreheads. I went to the mirror to check on Erik when I caught an unfamiliar reflection; the face was long and worn, tiredness in their eyes as bags hung in bundles underneath their eyes. Their skin was pale and bones were beginning to show through the thin covering of skin. I reached up to touch its face when I began to recognize the reflection. Blue eyes and Auburn hair tied neatly with a black ribbon given to a lover on a red rose. Sighing, I pushed the mirror aside and descended into the darkness of black despair. I reached Erik's side to surprisingly find him awake.  
"You are awake, good." I picked up the tea only to find it cold. "I'll be back with your tea shortly." I picked up the tea kettle and placed it over the fire. Once the kettle began to whistle I pulled it off with my apron and brought it back to Erik's side. I refilled his cup and added the medication as instructed.  
"Where…where did…" his voice weak. I sat him up in bed and helped him drink the tea, the bitter taste resonating in his mouth.  
"I know mon Cherie, but you must drink it all. I shall remember to put some more honey in your cup." He slowly forced down the bitter tea and I eased him back.  
"The medication…" I shook my head and kissed his hot forehead.  
"That is none of your concern. You need only focus on getting well." He put a weak hand to my face, rubbing his thumb across my cheek. I gave him a weak smile and put his hand on his chest. "I will be back soon to check on you." By the time I was at the door to his room I could hear him sleeping soundly. I went back to the surface to see about my brothers. Their fevers were still raging like a fire. I changed their towels, humming mother's song to more calm my nerves than theirs. I could hear Conner moaning in pain, breaking my heart with each groan of suffering. Sitting by his side, I brushed his bountiful brown hair and kiss his cheek. "I am so sorry Conner…I am such an awful sister…" I laid my head by his arm and cried, knowing he couldn't hear me and soon, he would be with Mother and Father in Heaven. I sat up to change his towel when his chest rose for the last time. "Conner?" I shook him, put my ear to his mouth, but nothing was happening. "Conner!" I took his pulse, it failed to beat. "CONNER!" I screamed. Not a response, just the silence of death. I took his towel and put it in the wash basin, kissed his forehead one last time and pulled the sheet over him and his cot. "Tell Mother and Father I love them…" I managed to whisper. I got up and gave Lukas his next dose of medicine and changed his towel. _If anyone can pull through this it must be Lukas… it has to be…_ once I knew Lukas was still alive I went back to Erik's side, brewing his tea and making sure to add extra honey. He was too sick to speak more than a word or two. I hated the silence, it was death's victory march. For days this was my routine, tending to Lukas and Erik. I had Conner's body taken away and buried next to Mother and Father in the cemetery outside of town. That's when I found Christine's father's grave, he was so young when she died, no more than 35. The sepulture did not say how he died, only said he was a loving husband and adoring father. Lukas was still out when I returned, but his fever was beginning to break. Feeding him another dose of medication, I made sure to keep his towel cool and wet before going to see Erik. The reflection from a few days ago had returned. The person in the mirror seemed to have aged 10 years, sunken eyes, bones showing through the paper thin skin, a mere skeleton with the same blue eyes and auburn hair, which was an un-kept mess. The black ribbon was doing nothing to hold it back now. The skeleton pulled the ribbon out and put it in the pocket of her dress before vanishing with the movement of the mirror. The walk to Erik's was longer than normal, but the walk gave me time to think. When I crossed the bridge I could hear a soft melody floating through the air, a melody that only The Phantom of the Opera could write. It was filled with his signature darkness and made my heart beat for the first time in days. I rounded the corner to see him perched at his piano, slowly singing and playing to his heart's pleasure. It wasn't until he stopped to write down his composition that I spoke.  
"Look who is feeling better?" He turned, his sweet, dark smile greeting my presence. He rose from the bench, only to take two steps before falling to his knees. Dashing to his side, I put his arm around me and led him back to bed. "I am glad you are awake, but it is too soon for you to be out of bed…" I pulled the sheets to his chest, just how he liked them. He reached out and gently put a hand to my chin, lifting my face to meet his. His eyes were wide once they found mine.  
"My God Belle…." His hand went to my sunken face. "You are a ghost...have you even slept…?"  
"Let me get you the tea and medicine." I rose from his bed and pulled the kettle off to pour him his cup, making sure to add extra honey to the medicine. "You know the drill mon amour…." He sat up on his own, drinking it all slowly, the bitter taste still abusing his taste buds. I felt his forehead, the fever gone completely. I took his empty cup and set it aside when he caught my arm.  
"Belle…when was the last time you slept, and ate?" I shrugged my shoulders. He threw the covers aside and swung his legs around.  
"You can hardly stand, stay in bed and I will get whatever you need."  
"I need you to lay here in bed. You are exhausted! And where did you get this medicine?" He held up the bottle. _The medicine, Lukas!_ I put him back in bed.  
"I will be back soon, I must see to Lukas and Con…" I bit my lip at his name. "I need to see to Lukas…I will be back shortly my darling…" I gave him a soft kiss to the cheek before returning to see Lukas sitting up in bed. I wrapped my arms around him. He asked where Conner was, and after I gave no reply, he understood. "You need to rest; this is too much for you right now…" He nodded his head and lay back in bed, quietly letting his own tears lull him to sleep. I left him a note of where I was should he need me and went back to Erik. I heard a crash from his room as I entered his hideaway. I tried to run, but more or less walked to his door. I entered to find him leaning on his nightstand. "I told you to stay in bed." I put him back to bed. "You will stay here for the rest of the week or so help me I shall tie you to it!" I pulled his sheets up to his chest when his hand lifted my chin, taking in my ghostly face.  
"What has happened to mon ange…? You are so weak and frail…" his face plastered with worry.  
"Conner…he's…" I closed my eyes as tears fell onto the crimson sheets. I could hear Erik sigh as well, swearing under his breath. He pulled me to his arms, my head on this bare chest. I could feel his fingers playing with my hair as he kissed the top of my head.  
"You need to rest mon amour…"  
"But Lukas needs me… he just woke up!" I looked up at him, my head spinning. "The room is spinning…" I pulled myself into the bed, god how my head hurt. I felt Erik take my cloak off and set it aside, then wrap me in his arms and pull me into his chest.  
"There you go mon bel amour…rest." His voice is raspy from the coughing, unable to sing or hum. He takes my hand in his, my vision to blurry to see much of anything as I fade in and out. I feel lips gently press against my temple, his free hand softly brushing my hair away from my face. Soon the room is in total darkness, the only light softly creeping through the bottom of the door. My left hand feel cooler than my right, but only for a moment as I soon slip into a deep sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

There was an eerie feeling in the air as we all awaited the arrival of spring, which never seemed to come. Some days the air would be warm, the sun shining in all its glory and birds singing their merry tunes. Then some days the clouds would roll in, your breath freezing in mid-air as frost killed what little foliage began to bud out. It seemed that everyone in Paris was sick in one way or another. Fevers were running higher and higher, coughing was now its own language, more and more of the opera house shivered with chills and aches, all of this forcing the twits to close the opera house for a full month. One of the few advantages to living in isolation is not catching whatever aliment the surface was spreading. Each day I can hear the coughing and groaning through the walls; soft, sad groans of pain and sickness until I can stand it no longer. I decide to help Belle, who surprisingly seems to be immune to whatever plague has struck Paris. We take over the kitchen, scalding every tea pot and cup as we try our best to keep the plague at bay. Like the rest of the opera house, her brothers also fell sick; strep throat.  
"I can't find any mint leaves." I call out, throwing open cabinet doors. I hear the clicking of her shoes quicken as she come bearing a teapot on a tray.  
"That's because they are right here mon amour." She hands me the pouch of strong mint from the pocket in her dress, her eyes locked with mine. She sets the tray on the counter, her hand reaching for my forehead.  
"What are you doing mon cher?" the back of her hand is cool to the touch, almost soothing to my skin.  
"Erik you are a little too warm, even for being here in the kitchen…" I shake my head and roll my eyes. I kiss her hand softly.  
"Mon ange you worry too much. I am very much alright." Her face may have relaxed at my words, but her eyes told a different story. I let out a sigh, _I am going to have to prove to her I am alright._ "If it pleases you, I will go home and lie down for the day. Then you shall she I am quite alright." The worry in her eyes slowly faded, but never truly vanished. Her smile, however, proved my point well.  
"Don't you worry, I will not be much longer up here and then you and I can finally have some time together, just the two of us…" her hands wrapped around my waist, resting just above my belt. I slid my arms under her cloak and pulled her to me, resting one hand perfectly between her shoulder blades as the other pulled my ribbon from her hair. All I could do was drink in the beauty before me, and the best part was that she was all mine, and I was all hers.  
"It always seems like every time we try and be alone, something comes up…" Her lips began to curl into that devilish smile that I can't quite seem to resist; not that I really minded. I pushed her back to me, letting my lips land on hers softly as she pressed me into the counter top. _How I could kiss you forever… hold you until the end of time… have you for mine for all eternity…_ She indulged me long enough to get me riled, then slowly pulled away.  
"I need to go mon amoureax…. I promise more for this evening…" _And I promise more for you as well…_ I kiss her one last time before leaving the kitchen. I wait long enough for her to leave before dashing to my home below. _Tonight I will do it… tonight is the night I make her my betrothed…_ I grab my bag of money, my full mask, and take the land route to the opening on the side of the opera house. The air is cold and harsh, burning at my cheeks. I was expecting weather more suited to my mood. Though I am wearing my gloves and coat, the winter like air seems to seep through the fabric and freeze my bones. The jeweler was not too far from the opera house, just a few blocks or so. I push through the door, the sound of the bell instantly rendering a 'Just a moment!' cry from the back of the store. The middle aged man steps out, a beautiful necklace in his hand. He sets it on the glass case and wipes his hands with a pristine rag, his gaze rising to meet mine.  
"Well this is a surprise! Monsieur Destler, I didn't expect to see you until next week!" He extends his hand out to mine, which I gladly shake.  
"Me neither Monsieur Chapman! But tonight is the night! I can't stand the wait anymore." The man's brown eyes shine at the mention of my proposal to Belle.  
"With a man as handsome and wealthy as you, how could this girl resist!" I couldn't help but laugh; he sees a handsome man with dark hair and blue eyes and an endless pocketbook. The full mask was by far the best thing I ever did invest my time into beside my music. He quickly ducks behind the thick curtain, his barking cough ringing through the quiet air.  
"I must say monsieur; this girl must truly be something to behold! A ring as grand as this is no laughing matter." He comes through the curtain, the black velvet box in his hand. I open the box to see just what I had designed. A brilliant silver band with a diamond sitting perfectly in the center while small vines and leaves gracefully branched away from the diamond. "It took me days upon weeks to get your design etched onto the band! And then adding the petals to make it look like a rose?! Only a genius like yourself monsieur could design such a thing." I give a small laugh at this groaning as I toss him the pouch.  
"And you are the only jeweler in Paris who took the challenge, and did I not say I would reward you handsomely?" He was too busy counting the hundreds of Francs in the pouch, probably more money he had seen in a year.  
"I am sorry; did you need anything else Monsieur Destler?" I shake my head, leaving the man to his money as I duck out the door and into the cold. I keep a tight grip on the box through the cold wind, my other hand hardly working as I try and open the door to the opera house. The land route back to my home whistles with the wind outside as it finds cracks and crevasses to echo in but I don't really care. Tonight I will make Belle my betrothed, I can hardly stand it! Music begins to flood my head as I near my home, forcing me to my piano and making me play. The melody is soft, sweet, just like my angel… never have I ever written a happier tune. I continue to hum along to my playing, awaiting Belle's return when my throat begins to burn like fire. I try to push past it but my lungs begin to convulse, coughing deep like a dog's bark. No matter how much I tried to stop, the coughing continued, harder and deeper until I could hardly breathe. A small hand comes to my back as I lean on its owner.  
"Oh mon amour, not you too…" I look up to see my angel, her hand cooling my fiery forehead as she led me to bed. As she eases me back, I am forced to roll away, my lungs demanding to cough up the flam they hold. I feel a soft pat on my back breaking up the gunk and allowing me to breathe a little better. I roll back to her, her warm eyes saddened by my pitiful state as she wipes my mouth like a child. After a cup of strong tea, she leaves me to rest; my head has never throbbed more or my core hurt so much from coughing. I have killed for entertainment; built a palace with my own hands, and traveled the world but nothing hurt more than being sick and pitiful before my beloved. _And you were supposed to propose to her tonight!_ I drift off to sleep and dream of what could have been happening tonight.

" _Belle my love, I have something for you!" I can hear the soft click of her boots crossing the bridge into my home. I light the last candle in my bedroom and quickly dash into the main area. I sit at the piano, trying to keep my composure. Being a murder for hire never made me this nervous or sick at my stomach in all my days! She soon comes around the corner, finally wearing the new dress I got her. The dress was the color of the forest with the sleeves stopping just above her elbow, extra fabric hanging loosely from the dress.  
"What is it mon amour? You have already gotten me so much." Her sarcasm her best defense against me. I gripped the box in my coat pocket as my hands began to sweat. She comes to my side on the piano bench, her velvet lips almost feel real against my cheek. _

"Erik my love, I need you to sit up…" Her voice pulls me from my dream long enough to swallow the bitter tea. Something is different about it; she has added honey along with another liquid. It wasn't very viscous, but it coated my throat well enough to ease my cough. I soon drift back to sleep.

 _"I am glad you are finally getting a chance to wear a dress. It pains me to see you in pants. It's not very lady like." She lightly hits my arm, rolling her eyes and scoffing.  
"I can't exactly wear a dress around the props or the men!" I kiss her hand softly. This is it, the moment of truth. It's now or never. "Erik, are you alright?" My eyes dart up to her. _

I again am woken up by my love, another cup of tea in her hands. This time however, she pulls it away long enough to add the contents of a small bottle before handing me the cup. She kisses my forehead and lays me back in bed and says something about her brothers.

 _"Belle… you know I love you more than life itself… the first time I saw you, dancing in the square outside the opera house your beauty bewitched me. I thought you were a stupid ballet rat, a simpleton with nothing more than her beauty to get her anywhere in life. But now I know you are so much more… a bright, intelligent, crafty, clever girl with a heart as big as Paris and twice as elegant." Her eyes are wide, tears beginning to form. At this point I am fairly certain she knows what is going on. I drop to one knee next to the bench, pulling the box from my pocket as I take her left hand in mine. Tears are now falling from both sets of eyes. "Make me the happiest man in the world and become Madame Erik Destler?" No matter how hard she tries, her smile continues to grow along with her tears.  
"Yes…" her voice choked out by her tears of joy "A thousand times yes I will marry you…" she slowly beings to fade from my view…  
_"Belle… no…" my eyes flutter open. I am back among the living, for the most part. My lungs no longer wish to kill me with every breath and my throat isn't burning like the fires of hell. My heart urged me to my piano, wishing to play the piece I wrote the night we met. I slowly marched myself to the piano and began to play a slow version of Belle's song, changing several things and turning the once fiery and demanding song into a beautifully dark lullaby.  
"Look who is feeling better?" I turn to see my love leaning against the wall. She looked different, her hair had lost its luster and was a ragged and tangles mess. How I have missed seeing her. I push myself from the bench and make my way to her. My head begins to spin like a child's top as I fall to the ground. _So much for feeling better._ Her hand pulls my arm around her. "I am glad you are awake, but it's too soon for you to be out of bed…" Though I am sick of being in bed, feeling her pull the sheets to my chest makes me want to stay in bed forever. I put a gentle hand to her chin, lifting her eyes to meet mine. _Dear Lord above… this can't be my Belle…_  
"My God Belle… You are a ghost…have you even slept…?" she ignores my question and rises to retrieve the teapot and cup. I sigh and sit up and take the tea, its bitter taste just as horrible as I remembered. I catch her arm and demand answers; my only answer is the shrug of her shoulders. _Belle don't do this to me! You are becoming more and more stubborn and insufferable._ I throw the covers aside and swing my legs to the side of the bed to help her.  
"You can hardly stand; stay in bed and I will get whatever you need." I grab her arm and pulled her back to the bedside.  
"I need you to lay here next to me and rest. You are exhausted! And where did you get this medicine?" her only reply was saying she needed to see her brothers and kissing my cheek before bolting out the door. All I can to is shake my head and roll my eyes. _She is going to kill herself! Even the Phantom of the Opera knows when to rest…_ glancing around the room, the thought of the ring bursts into my mind. _When she returns I will propose!_ I get up and walk to my coat. My room may be large, but by the time I returned to the bedside, I was huffing like a workhorse. I feel my body crumble under my own weight, the nightstand doing its best not to break.  
"I told you to stay in bed." _I see the kettle is calling the pot black…"_ she pulled me back to the bed, threatening to tie me to it if I moved again. _I would rather tie you up instead…_ her face one again meets mine; even more ghostly than before. I have never seen skin so white and eyes so dark; I could almost see my own reflection after Christine left me for that blasted fop.  
"What has happened to mon ange…? You are so weak and frail…"  
"Conner… he's…" she bit her and fell onto the bed, tears flowing like a river; a river of pain. _No, not the boy…_ I pulled her into my chest and held her tight to me. How I wished I could whisk away her pain and suffering and hear her contagious laughter and quick wit. The only thing I can do is kiss the top of her head, softly rocking her in my arms as she cries. "Lukas needs me…he just woke up!" She tries to pull away, her hand grabbing her head. "The room…it's spinning…" I pull off her cloak and throw it aside, letting her crawl back into bed with me and my arms soothing away her pain. I tried to sing her to sleep but my throat made it painful to do so. I settled for playing with her messy hair and softly kissing her temple. I take the ring from its box and slide it gently on her left hand. It looks beautiful on her hand, just how I envisioned it.  
"I love you my sweet…so very much…" I kiss her temple one last time before succumbing to sleep's silent grip.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello again readers! Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, writer's block is not fun at all. I promise you will enjoy this chapter almost as much as I had writing it. As a reminder I do not own any of the Leroux/ Webber characters (In this chapter they are just Erik and Christine) I only own my OC. In case you do not recognize the 'lullaby' that is referred to, listen to One Upon a December from the movie** _ **Anastasia**_ **, the animated one that is. It's beautiful and I think fits well here. As always, feel free to leave any comments/ reviews/ ideas of where you would like the story to end, I am getting close and would some feedback from everyone. I remain your obedient servant  
~The Southern Rose~**

" _Erik? Erik where are you?" A soft voice calls out in the darkness. The sound of heels begins to slowly click through the darkness. "Erik I know you can hear me."  
"Why are you here?" the clicking stops.  
"Why else would I be here. I came here for you; please play for me." Silence comes between the two voice, neither one wanting to interrupt the other. All that can be heard is the soft rippling of the water and quiet splashes of tiny pebbles rolling into the lake under the opera house. Soon the clicking begins again, light soon flooding and overpowering the darkness. "Erik please, play for me. I want to hear your beautiful music…" the voice pleads. A head of dark hair comes into view and glides to the piano, taking a seat on its magnificent bench. "I don't remember you having this?"  
"It was a gift, someone made it for me. I would appreciate it if you removed your rear from it or I shall do it for you." Gentle, contagious laughter graced the air between the two bodies.  
"Gift? Who gives the Opera Ghost a gift? I was the one who saw you when no one else would." A hand spread over the ivory and midnight keys as its partner places a silver candelabra on the top of the piano. "I wish I had learned to play…" the soft sound of random notes picks at the silence in the air. Note by note each piano key is match with an angelic voice. A deep baritone voice growls and sighs, marching to the angel voice.  
"If it will shut you up, I shall play…" He moves the girl from his bench, only to have her sit back on the bench. He turns his head to the girl, her warm smile worming its way into his cold heart. One could almost hear the breaking and melting of ice from his cold heart, almost that is… The man's large hands begin to work the keys of the piano, soft and slow, a lullaby from his days abroad in Persia. Though it was a Russian lullaby, it still managed to please the Shah when he could not sleep. "Dancing bears…painted wings…things I almost remember…" it was the story of a girl who was separated from her royal family as a child, and is exploring the castle of her youth while trying to remember what they looked like. The girl on the bench began to sway with the music, humming along as the baritone sang. Soon her voice overtakes his, echoing and filling every empty space with her soul.  
"Someone holds me safe and warm…horses prance through a silver storm…figures dancing gracefully across my memory…!" The piano maestro urges the soprano onward, the darkness in his soul slowly beginning to melt as the curly haired beauty filled the room with her song. Enchantment rang through the once lifeless halls, blowing away the years of suffering and torment. Softly the song came to a close. "And a song, someone sings…!" her voice drawing out the last word "Once upon a December!" The man can hardly bring himself to lift his hands from the keys, his eyes wide with music. Soft lips press gently to his cheek, causing him to look up from the piano.  
"This… this isn't" his lips are shut by the kiss of the girl. Silence once again overtakes the air as a blissful kiss is shared.  
"Erik…?" another maiden's broken voice shatters the silence. The man's head turns to the maiden, tears in her eyes as her hand covers her lips. The girl looks at the maiden, her face writhing with disgust.  
"Erik, who is this girl?" He looks back to the woman on his piano bench. She rises from the bench and marches to the maiden, her heels clicking madly. "How did you get down here? And how do you know his name!"  
"He told me… he is my friend…" The woman's laugh loudly echoes.  
"Friend?! I am the only friend he ever had! He is my angel of music!"  
"Christine enough of this. Leave now…" Erik commands.  
"NO! I am your angel! How could you deny me!" She throws herself into his arms. Pleading with him. "I love you!" the maiden's eyes begin to spill over with tears. In one hand he holds his once love and adoration, in the other he now holds a velvet box.  
"Is that… a ring…?" the maiden chokes out. All heads turn to the man's hand and the box.  
"My ring!" the woman cries out as the reaches for it. The man pulls it away, letting go of the woman and pushing her away.  
"You had your chance, and you made your choice." He walks over to the crying maiden, kissing her hand softly. She jerks away, anger and hate flooding her eyes.  
"How could you!" she growls; her words like venom to the man. "You lied to me all this time didn't you! You never loved me!"  
"No, mon amour please listen to me…" his voice becomes as broken as the maiden's spirit. "I love you..." three words, eight letters that can heal the most fragile of souls, or break the hardest of hearts. One heart was broken while another soul was healed. The maiden fell into his arms while the woman screamed out.  
"NO! He's MY angel of music!" the angel of music slid the ring onto the maiden's finger, kissing her softly. The woman screams out again as she forces herself between the couple. A violent 'pop!' rings through the troubled air, leaving one girl lying on the ground, the other standing before the angel of music.  
"How could you…" a broken voice cracks out. The girl lay unmoving on the cold stone ground. Soon a soft groan comes from the floor. The man goes to his knees to help the girl, the click of a pistol freezing all movement.  
"I will give you the same choice you gave me; stay with me or send your lover to her grave!" Erik slowly rises, Christine pointing a pistol at Belle. "All is fair in love and war, isn't it Erik." Belle slowly begins to sit up.  
"My head…"  
"Belle stay still my love…" Erik softly whispers.  
"You try my patience… I said choose, or I will choose for you." Tears begin to roll down the man's face. How fitting that the once delusional man who forced a scared girl to make the same choice be forced to choose now. Oh how sweet the irony, the poetic justice. He gives a long sigh before looking up at his soon to be bride.  
"At least let me say goodbye…" a twisted and demented smile crosses her lips as she pulls the pistol back to her.  
"Make it quick." Erik squats to the maiden's side, taking her hand in his.  
"Know that I always love you, and one day we will be together again." The maiden's eyes were full once again with tears of pain. She shook her head, clinging to his hand. He pulled her to him for one last, breathless kiss, one last kiss before the bang. The maiden screamed out in pain, her cry shattering all hope for tomorrow. Erik pulled away long enough to see the blood pouring from her stomach. A hellish and demonic laughter once again filled the air as he was forced to watch his lover die in his arms. He held her to him, taking in one last look at her beauty before she breathed her last. He kissed her again and again, imprinting the feel of her lips on his. He slowly pulled back, his eyes full of tears but his lover had vanished, her body gone. The hellish laughter continued as the demon held the pistol in her hand, her dress now white as show and the cave now a church.  
"Ready to become mine…?" he spat in her face  
"I would rather die…"  
"As you wish" and a second bang rang through.  
_

Erik sat up screaming bloody murder, his dreaming almost surreal. His body was covered in sweat and stuck to the hair on his chest. He continued to scream, waking Belle.  
"Erik! Erik what's wrong!" She grabbed his arm, his instinct sending her back into the bed. _Please let it be a dream! Please!_ The room was dark, not a candle lit, the only light softly glowing from under the door. _No! NO! NO!_ His mind was raging like a violent storm that refused to yield. He flew out of bed, stumbling and kicking and tripping over everything. He tore through the nightstand, the dark making everything invisible; but soon his hand grazed over something velvety.  
"Finally!" I cry out. I quickly open the box, but feel nothing inside. I send the box flying across the room, it bouncing off the door. "NO!" I throw open the door, the light flooding the room. I grab the small candle from its place just above the door.  
"Erik…?" the nearly silent groan breaks me from my rage. I freeze in my place, shaking my head. _It can't be…_ "Damn… you hit hard…" _I hit her?! Oh god!_ I spin on my heel and flood the room with the candlelight. Her hand tries to block out the light. She slowly brings her hand down letting the light glisten in her auburn hair. _Oh god Belle…_ in two steps I was across the room and by her side. I set the candle on the nightstand, letting myself just take in all of her. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were hollow and her skin pale, but she was alive; she was alive and well and in his bed. He brushed away a strand of hair, her cheek red like fire.  
"Did I…?" she slowly nodded her head.  
"I guess you have to be strong if you are to be a murder…" all I could do was smile. "You were screaming like you were being murdered. I tried to calm you down and that's when I got sucker punched."  
"I had the worst nightmare…" all the voices and sounds begin to flood my mind; the click of her heels, the click of the pistol. _Choose or I will choose for you…_ Belle's pitiful cries and then her ear shattering scream of pain.  
"Erik…?" I open my eyes, her face beginning to show signs of bruising. Her right hand goes to my face. "Don't you worry my love; I am right here…" I give a long and draw out sigh.  
"And I never want you to leave my side again…" I bring her left hand up into the light, giving it a long kiss. Her eyes widen as the beautiful ring comes into view and glitters in the candlelight.  
"Erik… oh my sweet…" tears filled her eyes and her smile broadens.  
"Belle I am madly in love with you. Everything little thing about you makes my heart beat a little more and my soul soar like a bird on a sunny day. Your hard working spirit, self-sacrifice for your family… everything… Please make me the happiest man alive and become Madame Erik Destler… you will lack for nothing ever I swear by it…" I can see she is already crying.  
"Yes…a thousand times yes…" I can't help but throw my arms around her, pulling her into my chest and burying my head in her neck.  
"Oh my sweet darling…my sweet angel. I will forever protect you…"  
"I love you so much Erik…" Her words are like sweet wine, and her lips are like honey to my soul when they meet mine. Oh how I could kiss those soft lips forever. I feel her tongue lightly flick against mine, her hands sliding around my torso. I lay her back on the bed, letting my hands wader where they like and belle happily obliging me, but suddenly pulls away. "You should know something before this goes any further…" her eyes now hollow.  
"Anything you have to say will not make me love you any less mon amroueax."  
"Erik the days I was kidnapped… and those days when we first were on the streets…" her eyes close in fear. A soft kiss brings them back to me.  
"I understand mon ange. Don't you worry…"  
"But you don't! I got pregnant from one of the men I slept with for money, then he hit my stomach until the baby was dead… Erik I can't have children… ever…" I pull back at her statement. _No children, ever…? Never shall she bear my children…? Never will I be a father…?_ I pull away from her as my mind runs ramped with questions. I turn my attention back to her. She's pulled herself away from me and curled up by the head of the bed.  
"This doesn't mean I will stop loving you… I love all of you, not just part…" her words echoing in my mind. She slowly turns her head back to me as she wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. I open my arms and let her crawl back to me. It's all I can do not to cry; I love her after all, I love all of her not just part as she loves all of me. I bury my face in the hollow of her neck and hold her tightly to me. "Don't you fret mon amour…I love you for all times…" I softly kiss her cheek as I pull her with me to lay together, now as an officially betrothed couple.  
"Erik?"  
"Yes mon amour?" her cheeks flush red  
"Now that I am your bethrothed… I was wondering…" she paused and sighed. "I would like to start wearing your shirt to bed instead of my nightgown…" if my grin could get any wider it would break.  
"Of course you can mon amoureaux… why don't you go get one from my dresser…" she softly kisses me and stroles to my dresser, taking the candle with her. After several mintues and even more shirts, she settles on one I haven't worn in years; my red death shirt from the masquerade party. Like death I slide out of bed and come behind her, my lips softly pressing to her neck. She jumps and melts into me all at once.  
"What have I said about startling me!" I grin as we stand in my mirror.  
"But mon ange you know how much I love to skulk and scare…" my hands sliding over the silk of her nightgown. "Let's slip into something more comfortable shall we…?" her desperate sigh my queue. I slowly pull her back to the bed, letting love guide our actions. We make love all night, leaving us both breathless and exhausted. Soon her head comes to rest on my glistening chest, her breathing shallow and hair a tangled mess. I pull her closer to me, letting her role on her side and her left hand in mine. The ring never glistened brighter as she lay on my chest, now fast asleep. I place a kiss to her forehead and whisper a goodnight, letting sleep blissfully take me away.


	23. Chapter 23

**Gentle lips press to my forehead** , waking me from my deep slumber. I can feel the warmth of a body next to me encasing me. I groan softly, wishing I could go back to sleep. I let my eyes slowly flutter open to see Erik's wonderful smile. The events of the past day soon come back to me; his deadly screaming from a nightmare I know nothing about, his proposal. I bring my left hand up into the soft candlelight to make sure it was all real. His lips brush against my hand softly.  
"Good morning mon amour…" his baritone voice purring as he pulls me closer into his body. "Did my sweet sleep well?" I nod my head sleepily.  
"Yes I did…" I once again check my left hand, almost in disbelief that last night was real.  
"Don't worry mon amour, it's not a dream…" _Not even married and he's already reading my mind…_ I curl into his bare chest, letting his fingers brush over my messy mane as his lips softly brush over mine. "Why don't you go and wash up; then we can tell everyone the wonderful news of our engagement." Engagement; a word I thought I would never hear, at least about me that is. I always knew Lukas would be married, Conner too. My heart leaped in my chest at his words.  
"Just a few more minutes' mon amoureaux… I'm so comfortable and warm next to you…" His soft laughter rang in my ears as he pulled me tighter to him.  
"We haven't all day mon amour, you need to change, preferably something nice…" My mind flashed back even further; I sold everything I owned; including my dresses. I rolled away from him.  
"My tan dress will have to do then." I felt him sit up and lean over me.  
"How about the violet one I got you. It brings out your hair wonderfully." Tears were on the verge of spilling onto his crimson sheets.  
"I don't have it anymore…" I softly murmur.  
"Come again?" I sigh deeply and close my eyes. I can't bear to see the look on his face when I tell him.  
"I do not have it anymore." I could hear his breath hitch as he loomed over me.  
"And pray tell why not?" I roll onto my stomach, the silky sheets grazing over my scars.  
"I sold them. I sold everything I had to try and save you and Lukas and Conner. All I own is the nightgown and my tan dress. My dresses, my flute, my necklace are now all gone…" I finally let myself breath. If Erik was angry I couldn't tell. He just continued to loom over me like an apparition, then soon floated away. I was alone in the now dark bedroom with nothing to comfort me but my tears. _Surly he is going to leave; he will come back and pull this ring off my finger and throw me back to the streets where a rat like me belongs._ I let the darkness lull me back to sleep; the sound of the door waking me from my nap. _Please don't kick me out…_  
"Belle..." His voice was flat, making my insides hurt and my body flinch. I keep my head down as I push myself from the bed, wrapping my bare chest with the sheet.  
"Don't worry, I was just leaving anyway…" I pull the ring from my finger and set on the nightstand. Tears fell onto the pillow. My voice stopped working and my body refused to move. All I could do was keep my back to him and the sheet pressed to me as I cried quietly. I didn't hear his footsteps as they crossed the room. All I could hear was the deafening quiet of my sobs. A hand brushed against my back, making me flinch like a child afraid of being whipped.  
"Why did you do that? You know I could have paid for everything a thousand times over." Somehow I managed to choke out my words.  
"How could I… ask you for money…? They were my brothers…I am their sister… I am supposed to care for them at all costs…" His hand ran up my back, curling over my shoulder. His strong, large hands easily reached over my shoulder to encompass it. His weight shifted the mattress as he sat, making my body fall back to his. His arm reaches around me and pulls my back flat to his bare chest. A hand lifts mine and replaces the ring back to my finger, gentle lips pressing to the top of my shoulder.  
"We shall return to town and gather the things you sold. But you will never do something like this again." I simply nodded my head and let it rest on his chest. "Now let's get you cleaned up and dressed. I think I overheard something about the opera house putting on a new production." Neither one of us moves but lets the other think in the moment. I finally break the silent trans between us and look into his ice blue eyes. I pull his head to mine and lay a kiss on his lips, praying that he wouldn't be angry at me. He didn't smile, nor did he reject my kiss, but simply stood and walked to the bathtub behind the screen; letting the hiss of the water echo in the bedroom. I quickly throw on his red shirt and walk to the dresser; I grab my brush and make quick work of the tangled mess of my hair. I never looked at myself in the mirror; I couldn't bring myself to and made an effort to focus only on my hair. Soon the hiss of the water squeaked to an end as Erik eased into the steamy water, his soft sigh breaking my heart. I pull out my chemise and dress, slowly buttoning the back of the dress. It was not the prettiest thing; it was honestly awful in my opinion. It was a true peasant girl's dress. It lay just above the floor; the hem permanently stained with mud and other disgusting sentiments from wandering the streets of Paris. There was no pattern, no design, no figure, just a tan dress looking like it was cut from sackcloth. The buttons on the back were miss-matched from things I found on the streets. One was black, another green, one blue. There was no white trim on the collar or the elbow length sleeves. I pulled my hair back into my typical bun, Erik's black ribbon keeping my hair up. I hear the water begin to drain, my queue to disappear. I left Erik to change while I made my way up to the surface. The land bridge was lonely and the cool morning air soaked every bone in my body but could never be as cold as Erik's voice when I told him what I did. Soon I had arrived at the entrance to the opera house; I pull the rope to counteract the weight holding the sliding door. I was now below the orchestra in one of the prop rooms as the business of the Opera Garner was in full swing. Men were barking orders as Madame was using her cane to keep time as the ballerinas were stretching. I walk out from the storage room and made my way on stage.  
"Mademoiselle! I'm glad you are here!" I heard Leroux call out. I feel a hand take me by the arm and pull me across the stage.  
"Ah there she is!" Badeaux calls back, his suspenders nearly stretched out. "Attention! Attention everyone!" the workers of the stage either can't hear his cries or choose to ignore them. Several taps of a silver tipped cane echo through the performance hall, bringing all movement to a halt. Both managers steal a curious look at Madame before taking advantage of the silence. Even the great Christine de Chagny graces us with her angelic presence. "Now that we have your attention I have a little announcement to make. You all remember how well our little stagehand did in her last performance." A small applause rings through the air.  
"Yes we do!" Leroux states, his hands clapping wildly. "Now she shall be a permanent feature in the ballet corps! With the help of Madame, you shall shine!" I look over at Madame who has a soft, assuring smile while Meg was about to burst with excitement.  
"Don't forget the best part my friend." Badeaux called out as he stepped forward. "The requests for Ms. Um… what is your last name mon cher?"  
"Winner" All heads turned to me. I was not going to hide behind a French façade any longer. It was my real last name and that is how it was to be, until the wedding of course.  
"Right… The people have fallen in love with your dancing, and with Madame de Chagny's singing, but want to know which it better, the voice of an angel of the dancing of one." Eyes were torn between Christine and myself. I got lucky the first time; but now it's going to be an all-out war between the diva and I. To her fans she is a soft and tender woman; to Erik and I she is a witch.  
"And when, pray tell, were you going to inform me of this decision…" Erik's baritone voice booms in the performance hall. People begin to cower in fear of the phantom. No one knew where his voice was coming from; unless you knew where to look. I spotted the flutter of his cape among the cat walks just to the right of the stage. In all the stage there were only 4 people who did not flinch in fear at this fiasco; Madame, Meg, myself and Christine. Just as quickly as he came, he was gone. A piece of parchment flipped about as it came to a halt on the stage at the manager's feet. Neither one dare to touch it as we stand dead center on the now empty stage. I reach out at pick up his letter and break the wax skull seal.

 _My dear managers,_

 _When exactly did you plan to tell me about this unearthly scheme of yours?! I shall be waiting in your office to discuss this matter further with Madame de Chagny and Belle. Be warned that I am not happy in the least bit about this development._

 _I remain your obedient servant,  
O.G._

I handed Badeaux and Leroux the letter, their eyes wide with fear as their hands shook, nearly ripping the delicate parchment. Leroux called out to Christine to meet them in the office in five minute's time. The soft whimper of a baby pulled everyone's attention as Raoul walked on stage with the babe in his arms.  
"Christine please? I can't make him stop." The doting mother swooped the child in her arms and began to sing a soft lullaby. I watched the young mother rock her child as she sang and for once I saw her more delicate side; the side Erik probably fell in love with. One of the managers pulls me by the arm and off to their office. The walk to the office was quick and silent as they exchanged helpless looks to each other. They both push me into the office and lock the door behind them.  
"Do you really think a locked door can keep me out?" Erik steps from the shadows slowly, I had almost forgotten just how intimidating and frightening he could be when he tried.  
"We…well…" Badeaux stammered, fiddling with the pen in his hand. Erik just rolled his eyes as he threw down a leather bound score.  
"This was to be your next work; the story of a masked man and his trek across Persia but I guess I will write you another one to, accommodate your ploy." A small knock came to the door.  
"Go open the door girl." I gave a short curtsy to Badeaux and did as I was told; must to the dismay of Erik, who snatched his pen and broke it with one hand, ink staining his glove. Christine was at the door; the babe in her arms as I let her in. She shot daggers at me until I announced her properly.  
"Madame de Chagny for you Messieurs." Her head returned to his highly held position as she continued to rock the child.  
"What is the meaning of this meeting good messieurs?"  
"Well Madame, it's quite simple really. Your adoring public has fallen in love with the dancing of Mademoiselle Belle, and we wish to showcase each of you in a competition like opera. Mademoiselle, you do sing oiu?" All eyes were now turned to me.  
"Yes she does sing most beautifully…" Christine's eyes were wide almost like a child at Christmas at Erik's voice.  
"I see you have a new apprentice… am I, your glittering angel so easily replaced by a street rat?" Both stubborn mules stared each other down and refused to yield. As Christine stood still, the baby began to cry out again, begging to be rocked. "He has your eyes you know, ice blue eyes…" Erik paled, the managers gasped, and I ducked out the office to throw up. I found an empty trash can and made full use of it. _He couldn't have… the baby isn't that old is it…?_ My stomach convulsed again at the thought. I stayed outside the office, I couldn't bring myself to face any of them.  
"So it's settled then; Monsieur Fantome will write what we have discussed and have it ready by the end of the week to start rehearsal." Not another word was spoken when a pair of heels clicked across the floor. I quickly made myself scarce as the diva paraded past me, the babe trying to babble words. Like the wind she was here and gone in an instant. Her aromatic perfume made me gag and hurl one more. _How could he betray me…? How could he…_  
"Mademoiselle, if you will come in here please…" I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and drag myself into the manager's office. "Shut the door behind you please mamselle." I oblige them and stand with my head down at my boots.  
"What part do you sing mamselle?" the manager's voices are as lifeless as my soul.  
"Soprano I think."  
"You think?" I shrugged my shoulders. I never sang professionally before. I knew my range and while I could sing most of what Christine can, I could never soar as high as her. "Very well, Monsieur Fantome will write your part accordingly, won't you, monsieur?" I didn't expect Erik to still be in the room. All I could hear was a feral growl and the mumble of choice words before taking me by the hand.  
"If you will excuse us, we have an opera to write." His voice was darker than I remember. I let him lead me out of the office before I try to pull out of his grip. He grips my wrist tighter as I pull, threatening to break it if I continued. "You are going to listen to what I have to say." He walked us to his box and locked the door behind him. By now my temper had begun to rage and soar. The stage was empty, not another soul in sight.  
"Erik Destler you better tell me what the HELL is going on or" my soliloquy was silenced by his lips pressing to mine. I wanted to stay mad at him, I wanted to be furious with his secrecy and lies but his kiss made everything melt away. I still needed answers; he wasn't getting away with this so easily. I pushed him away "Tell me right now; once and for all. Is that baby yours?"  
"I am not sure." A thousand pounds pressed to my shoulders at his words.  
"So you did sleep with her, didn't you?" He refused to answer my question, which confirmed my suspicion. "I want an answer Erik; did you sleep with that woman?! YES OR NO!" I screamed with all I had  
"YES I DID!" his voice rattled the crystals on the magnificent chandelier. "I slept with her, one night, nothing more. The night before she was to be married she found me. We were two broken people caught in the heat of the moment." With each word you could hear my heart cracking and breaking.  
"How could you not know if that is your little bastard or not?! She said he had blue eyes just like you!"  
"I have not seen the child; how do we know she isn't lying" I was in no mood to hear is petty excuses. I pushed him aside and went to the door.  
"Unlock this door Erik, I want to leave. Now…" He didn't move, but sank into his chair sobbing. I beat against the door until my eyes were flooded with tears. Thunder began to loom over the opera house, fueling my rage and anger. He lied to me; he didn't tell me he actually slept with her… I pressed my head to the door and sank to my knees, ripping my dress. I could hear that damned child's infernal cry ringing in my ears and seemed to grow louder and louder.  
"Shhhh… Gustave please… not now my child…" I lifted my head up. Erik was still sobbing in his chair, his mask hanging off the arm of the chair. The child seemed to obey his mother's wish, for he soon quieted down and began to softly coo. I hear a second set of steps and the baby begin to giggle even more, babbling as the word 'papa' was clearly said.  
"That's right! Papa!" I have never heard Raoul so happy. Even Christine was in a happy mood.  
"Yes little Gustave, that is your papa! Oh Raoul every day he grows more like you. Even his hazel eyes belong to you…" _HAZEL! NOT BLUE!_ I begin to cry out again, sending two sets of footprints running. I leaned against the door once again, my mind a mess of emotions; confusion, anger, hate, betrayal, dismay… my head was beginning to pound and my stomach convulsing. All I want now is Erik's arms, his strong warm arms…  
"I'm sorry…" is all I can squeak out, the pain in my head blinding my vision. Even the sound of his silent footsteps make my head throb even more. Tear drops patter on my back, nearly soaking my dress as hands wrap around me.  
"Please forgive Erik… please… Erik begs of his Belle…"  
"Help me…please…" Tears are pouring from my eyes as my head pounds with the rolling thunder outside, then soon the pain takes me over, leaving my body limp.


	24. Chapter 24

_That damned bitch! How could she do something like that to me?! And in front of the managers and even Belle!_ Seeing her bolt out the door made my stomach turn, and hearing her vomit made me want to reach across the room and strangle the life out of that diva. In some ways she was worse than Carlotta. Raoul has turned her mind from the once young, innocent, kind child that was wide eyed for music was now a selfish, pompous prima donna. The managers' mouths were hanging open wide like cod fish while the demon was grinning like a cat.  
"I rather like the idea of their being a competition between the two of us. And I am happy to oblige my adoring public but only on one small condition."  
"And…and that would be…?" Leroux stuttered. Neither one of them knew which way was up, and neither did I. All I could do was stand in the silence like I always did. Silence was always the once comforting thing I had, and even know it was the only thing I could count on to have some sense of normalcy. Here I stand now before the one woman my soul could not live or even function without and she is the once weaving me into a trap of words. Her chocolate eyes fluttered to me.  
"You remember what it was like during Don Juan? Sensual, romantic the two of us being on stage together? That is my one condition: you must sing the lead male role. I trust you will write everything else accordingly…" Now I knew I was going to be sick. We all could hear Belle still vomiting over the trash can in the hall.  
"What… how will you…" Badeaux slowly began to babble and point at my face, or more my mask. No one seemed to know and answer for this. Last time, the character was wearing a mask to hide his identity from the lovely girl. Would I write something like that again? _Now will be my chance to premier my latest invention…_ I stare at the managers, who for once are doing something right; simply managing the office and leaving the art to me.  
"So it's settled then; Monsieur Fantome will write what we have discussed and have it ready by the end of the week for rehearsal on Monday." Christine gave one more, sly grin as she exited the office as Leroux called Belle back in. I retreated to the shadows for more my sake than hers. Her face was pale like my mask, her eyes hollow as she shut the door behind her, finding odd curiosity in her old boots. I didn't pay much attention to their brief conversation but kept my eyes on Belle. I wanted to make everything right by her.  
"You think? How can you not know what part you sing?" All I could do was growl. _She isn't trained you morons!_  
"If you will excuse us, we have an opera to write." Her head remained downcast as I led her out of the office. Once we were out of sight she began to pull out of my grip. I tightened my grasp on her wrist, threatening to break her wrist if she squirmed any more. I pulled her close to me, my voice a deep whisper. "You are going to listen to what I have to say." I dragged the mule up to my box and locked the door. She was going to listen to me and there was no way around it.  
"Erik Destler you better tell me what the HELL is going on or" I slammed my mouth to hers and kissed her furiously. She slowly melted into my arms, one arm around my neck and the other on my face. _I am about to break your heart, please allow me one last kiss before you leave me…_ soon one hand was on my chest as the pushed me away. "Tell me right now; once and for all… Is that baby yours?"  
"I am not sure…" I could see her heart begin to break, like a thousand pounds were slowly crushing a marble statue.  
"So you did sleep with her, didn't you?" I couldn't answer her. At the time I would have shouted it from the roof top 'yes I made love to Christine!' but now I was ashamed of what I had done. "I want an answer Erik! Did you sleep with that woman YES OR NO!" her scream broke the dam in my soul.  
"YES I DID!" the world around me rattled at my battle cry. Belle refused to yield as a clap of thunder rumbled through the opera house. "I slept with her, one night and nothing more. She came to me the night before her wedding. We were two broken people caught in the heat and passion of a moment and fell to weakness." I finally looked into her eyes; those dark blue orbs shattering as she began to process my confession.  
"How could you NOT know if that is your little bastard or not?! She said he had blue eyes just like you!"  
"I haven't seen the child; how do we know she isn't lying?" Her hands shoved me from her path, taking with me the last living part of my soul. It was like no other pain I had felt; even Christine leaving me could not compare to the shattering of my heart as Belle walked to the door. Each pat of her feet against the hardwood floor sent another crack through my heart until it was nothing more than a heap of crushed brick and mortar. I collapsed in the chair as my mask slid from my face. My tears had washed away the only shred of dignity I had left; this girl had reduced me to a primal state. I cared not for anything anymore but death. I could faintly hear her cries and her fists trying to break down the oak door. Soon the cries became more of a whimper as her dress ripped, for what reason I know not. For the first time since the night she was stabbed I got on my knees and prayed to God above. The God who gave me this face, the face of Satan; the God who gave me Christine and who gave me Belle. _I don't even know if you are still listening to me anymore, or if you even care but please, let her believe me… You know my heart better than anyone, I was weak and stupid… please don't take Belle away from me, please…_ I was a broken man, broken and pathetic, but God must have been listening to this bitter man's plea. For nothing could prepare me for the words she said.  
"I'm sorry…" My neck nearly broke at her words, and in a fraction of a second I was by her side raining tears on her dress.  
"Please forgive Erik…please… Erik begs of his Belle…" I lay my forehead on her back and soak her dress as I wrap my arms around her. Her voice is shaky like that of an elderly woman, very frail and weak.  
"Help me…please…" I open my eyes long enough to see her go limp like a doll.  
"Belle…?" I gently shake her, with no response. Turning her to me, her eyes are closed, the last of her tears rolling down her cheek. I pick her up and curl her into my chest, her left hand still glistening in the faint light. I smile and blink away tears as I begin to walk to my home under the opera house. I kiss her forehead several times as I carry her home, taking in the sleeping woman before me who is still my betrothed. The air below is cold; so cold I could see my breath but I don't mind. I lay her in bed and change her into the night gown before lighting the fire just beyond the bathtub. The sound of the cracking softly echoes in the room as it fights away the bitter cold. I return to my betrothed's side, who is still out cold. I want so badly for her to awake so I can kiss her, to tell her I love her and how sorry I am, but the only way I knew how was to write the opera with her coming out on top, and I knew just how to do so. I grab as much parchment as I can along with a deep supply of ink for my quill and crawl into bed beside her and scribble away at the opera. My mind was brimming with ideas until I settled on the one thing everyone wants the most; a love story. Two sisters, both of wealthy background are attending the gala of the newly opened Opera Garner. Everyone is a-buzz over the new male lead singer. At the masquerade ball, both girls fall in love with the lead tenor and compete for his affections. One sister, Trinity, has the voice of an angel and sings arias like no other. The other sister, Anastasia, can dance to anything she hears. The opera is centered on their competition for Christian and his favor. He obviously has Anastasia win, his way of getting back at the spoiled diva. He could hear Belle softly groaning as she rolled to her side, facing Erik. The clock in the hall rang out twelve slow bongs, the last one waking Belle.  
"Erik…?"  
"Shhh… go back to sleep mon amour…" I pressed my lips to her temple as her eyes closed one again in sleep.  
"I love you…" her soft murmur was loud and clear in my ears. I set my quill aside, happy with what I had written for the day and curled around her.  
"I love you too mon amour…"


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello readers! So in this chapter there is a LOT of dialogue between Belle and her brother Lukas. I wanted to keep with my theme of them speaking in exclusively German so I put in translations for those of you who do not speak it. I am semi fluent in German, but am very rusty at it. I had to cheat and use some of my old books and google translate (Hides behind Erik and his sword) please don't hate me! Side note: This will be my last chapter until 2/Aug. I have a final on that day and I need need NEED the time to study so I can do well. I may try and slip in a short chapter when my brain his engineering saturation levels and is a pool of jell-o. Looking to the future; I will be starting another story! It will be a POTO fictional story, but with an unusual twist. Those who are interested in a preview, feel free to message me. All I will say is that the Confederacy comes to Paris. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I remain your obedient servant,**

 **~The Southern Rose~**

 **The last thing I wanted to** do was interrupt Erik's work on the opera. I awoke one morning to his silk tenor voice singing a beautiful aria filled with love and desire for one of the characters in the opera. I slipped on my robe and quietly crept into the living area where he sat at his piano. I wrapped my arms around his chest and leaned in to kiss his neck when he jolted up right, threw me back and began to swear.  
"Who DARES TO…" he flung himself from the bench as his eyes met mine. They soon softened from their enraged state to the man I had fallen in love with. "Mon amour… I am so sorry… I thought you were someone else…" His arms wrapped me in warmth as I was pulled into his chest. I melted like butter in the summer heat to his body.  
"I've missed this…" I pressed my forehead into his chest. "Maybe it is best I leave you alone for a while so you can focus…" His hands lifted my chin to his as his lips softly graced my forehead.  
"I think that would be best mon Cherie. I promise once I finish we will be together." His hand run through my messy hair and gently guides me to his lips. His kiss is soft, sweet, comforting; just what I needed. It feels like years pass before he pulls away. "Go spend some time with Lukas. After everything that's happened, you two could use some catching up." Just what I was thinking honestly, I haven't had much time to be with the last of my family. I nod my head in agreement and pull him in for one last kiss before I go to change. I run myself a hot bath and try to soak away the worry and anxiety while reading my father's favorite book; a tale of King Arthur and Lady Guinevere. Father loved a good adventure; and adding a little romance never hurt anyone, especially Mother and Father. My thoughts drifted back to them; it was Lukas's 5th birthday when Father gave him is old violin. The opera house he was working with at the time was granting Father a new one and they were going to throw it away. His smile was never brighter than the day he got that violin. I drain the now lukewarm water and dry myself, then wrap the towel around me and head to the closet for my only dress. The skirt was ripped from my knee down, but that was no matter. Today I would take Lukas shopping with me, spend some money for once instead of paying off debts. As I leave I can hear Erik mumbling to himself, about what I'm not quite sure, but I know better than to ask. I take the land route back to the opera house, which is ghostly empty. I guess everyone is taking advantage of having a week or so to themselves without being deathly sick.  
"Lukas! Wo bist du?" _(Where are you?)_ I call out. The musician's dorms are small, for many of them are married and have families that live in Paris. I walk in to see only 10 beds scattered about, two of them next to the wall where a candle sits in the window sill overlooking one cot. Next to it is an empty cot with bottles strewn about and many of them were empty. _God please don't let it be true…_  
"Belle! Was is miene Lieblingssweister bis heute?" _(What is my favorite sister up to today?)_ I could hardly tell what he was saying; his words slurred like nothing I've ever heard from him. When he emerged from the bathroom; he was a sight to say the least. His brown hair was an un-kept mess and I don't think he has showered or changed in days. I could smell his stench from across the room, and even had to cover my nose to keep the putrid filth from making me gag.  
"Was zum Teufel hast do getan? Du siehst aus wie Vater nach einer Nacht bei Foss's!" _(What the hell are you doing? You look like Father after a night at Foss's!"_ I scold him harshly. He was a pitiful state to say the least. He tries to cross the room, but lands flat of his face in his cot and begins to laugh wildly. I roll my eyes and help him to a sitting position on the cot.  
"Jetzt sehe ich, warum Vater sich zu trinken gewandt hat! Ich fühle nichts!" _(Now I see why Father started to drink! I don't feel a thing)_ he gave a hiccup that could curl wallpaper. I took him by the shirt front and dragged him to the bathroom and threw him in the shower and blasted him with cold water. He howled and swore but I was not in the mood for his whining.  
"Du wirst dort bleiben, dis du nüchtern bist! Dann und NUR dann bringen ich dir einen Kaffee." _(You will stay there until you sober up! Then and ONLY then will I bring you some coffee.)_ I shook my head and walked to the kitchen to brew both of us a pot. _He needed a shower anyway…_ Those were mother's words when she would bring home father blindly drunk and several francs poorer. She would throw him into a cold tub of water, clothes and all until he could bring himself to 'act right in front of the children.' Lukas and Conner were oblivious to what Mother was doing, I on the other hand wasn't. She would look at me as I was starting breakfast for everyone, sigh and come kiss my forehead. 'We must pray that he comes out of this, until then we must try to show him the way.' While I waited for the kettle to whistle is tune I prayed, prayed for God to give me the strength to help him out of this insanity, to give me strength to go through with the opera, and to give Erik the peace he needs to finish it. A kitchen may not be a bench or the quiet closet of the priest, but I believe that God hears a prayer wherever you happen to be. The kettle begins to whistle, my signal to stand. I brew the coffee as strong as I can before carrying it out. I no longer hear the shower running and I walk into the dorm to see Lukas in a fresh set of clothes laying on his bed. "Ich sehe, du haben ein weing beruhigt?" _(I see you have sobered up a little?)_ he rolled to his side and groaned, then grabbed a pot and began to vomit. The irony in all of this was pitiful. I set the coffee aside as I wiped his mouth with a nearby rag.  
"Ich fühle mich furchtbar…" _(I feel terrible)_  
"Ja, kein Scherz Durch das Aussehen der Dinge haben Sie mehr als Ihren fairen Anteil an Getränken gehabt." _(Yeah no kidding. By the looks of things, you've had more than your fair share of drinks.)_ I hand him a cup of coffee and help him sit up. He sips the bitterly strong liquid and leans against the wall, his eyes gazing over to the empty cot. I pour myself a cup and let it's warm, bitter taste distract my mind. We sit in the silence of the morning, no one making a sound as we empty the pot of coffee.  
"Können wir sie besuchen?" _(Can we go visit them?)_ Lukas finally manages through his now 4th cup of coffee.  
"Natürlich können wir." _(Of course we can)_ He gives his smile all he can muster as he groans and rises from his cot. He helps me return the pot and cups to the kitchen and we set out for the cemetery. The sun is high and bright, much to Lukas's drunken dismay. Before we arrive we stop at a flower shop, a rose for Mother, a lily for Father and baby's breath for Conner. I take Lukas by the hand and guide him to their graves.  
"Du siehst aus wie Mutter…" _(You look like Mother…)_ I squeeze his hand as we stop at her headstone first. Lukas set the rose on her stone and whispered a soft prayer for her. I left to talk to Mother while I moved to Father's headstone.  
"Hi Papa… I'm sorry it's been so long since my last visit. Things have been rather busy here. Lukas and I have jobs at the Opera Garner, can you believe it? Lukas plays your violin in the orchestra, and I'm a stagehand, well not anymore. They have moved me into the ballet corps. Even Conner was playing in the orchestra, but I guess he's talking up a storm now with you and Mother. Look at this Papa" I extend my left hand out to his headstone, like I was showing him "I am engaged now. He's the Phantom of the Opera, the very same who burned the opera house. Now I know you must think him a monster but Erik's very kind and sweet deep down. He protects me like no other, like you would with Mother… God knows how much I miss all of you…" I feel a hand on my shoulder. Lukas is staring at my left hand, at the ring that graces my finger.  
"Wann bist du verlobt?!" _(When did you get engaged?!)_ I smiled and told him everything about Erik, how he loved me, how he saved me from Foss, how he proposed even. "Hast du ihm von dem Baby erzählt?" _(Does he know about…the baby…?)_ I nodded my head and smiled.  
"Ja! Und es hat mir egal!" _(Yes! And he didn't care!)_ Lukas's eyes were wide, nearly popping out of his head. He squeezed me tightly in his arms as we placed the baby's breath on Conner's headstone. "Ich hatte gehofft, er wäre der Ringträger…" _(I was hoping he would be the ring bearer)_ For the first time since we moved to the opera house, Lukas's eyes lit up as he threw his arms around me and squeezed me tight.  
"Es tut mir so leid, dass ich trinke ... und ich bin so glücklich, dass meine Schwester heiratet ... zum ersten Mal schauen sie mal auf ... sind sie nicht Belle?" _(I'm so sorry I was drinking... and I'm so happy my sister is getting married... for the first time things are look up... aren't they Belle?)_ I nodded my head as we both sat together like we one did, together like a family.  
"Gehen wir einkaufen! Wie Mutter würde es tun, wenn wir jung waren." _(Let's go shopping! Like mother would do when we were young.)_ Every Sunday after church we would go exploring the city life. It was the only time we would venture near the markets. Lukas and I would marvel at all the people, shopkeepers, and Papa would take me to the bookshop while Mother took Lukas and then Conner to the bakery for a pastry.  
"Solange ich ein Himbeer- und Schokoladengebäck bekomme!" _(As long as I get a raspberry and chocolate pastry!)_ Both of us begin to laugh, he never could resist raspberry and chocolate, especially when they were mixed together. He takes me by the hand and leads me into town, or rather drags me to the nearest bakery that serves raspberry and chocolate pastries. I too indulge myself in the small delight, the first piece of sweet dessert I have had since the first night on the streets. It felt good to indulge in life's little pleasures; Lukas didn't even mind when I asked him to come with me dress shopping, he even picked out several for me to wear now that I'm no longer moving sets. By the time the sun had set I had more dresses than I could imagine; all 5 of them were different colors, my favorites being the lavender one Lukas chose and the deep blue one that reminded me of Mother's Sunday best, I even had one I could work in without worry or restriction. I couldn't wait to show them to Erik. Lukas and I dined out at a café not too far from the opera house, even Madame de Chagny and her husband graced the little café with their illustrious presence. The whole place was in an uproar over the diva's appearance, people scrambled to her side for autographs and even began to chant for her to sing. Her eyes somehow found mine in the crowed café and began to let her angelic voice soar through the air, the whole crowd hushing in a single moment. That was my queue to grab Lukas and leave. "Aber Belle, ich habe ihr Stimme genossen!" _(But Belle, I was enjoying her sinning!)_ I refused to answer him and continued to pull him away by his shirt sleeve. "Was ist los mit dir? Warum magst du sie nicht? Belle bitte!" _(What's going on? Why don't you like her? Belle Please!)_ I turn around to him, the moon slowly rising into the Paris sky.  
"Diese Frau ist nicht das, was sie sieht. Ihre Fassade kann die vielen locken, aber ihr Herz ist so kalt wie Winter und genauso leblos." _(That woman is not what she sees. Her facade may entice the many, but her heart is as cold as winter and just as lifeless.)_ His grey eyes were wide with shock. As we walked back to the opera house I explained everything to him. We entered the dorm, a couple of men already asleep. He couldn't believe it, how that beautiful woman could be so cold and cruel. I bit him not to worry, that everything will turn out in the end. He kissed me goodnight and I sprinted back to Erik's home. The land bridge pathway was dark, darker than any moonless night I spent in Paris. I somehow managed to change into the lavender dress on my walk when Erik's beautiful music began to soar through the deafening silence. His voice was like fine silk gliding over soft skin. The song was one of beauty and seduction, the voice pined for the affections of a young woman. Soon his voice softly faded away and left the music to bid whomever hear it dance. I run faster and faster to the music. I slide to a stop at the entrance to his living room; I love watching him work. The music soon came to a close, leaving both composer and listener breathless.  
"Oh Erik…" He turns around, a wide grin on his face.  
"Don't we look lovely… mon amoureaux…" I blush hard at his statement. "That piece was just for us. I took the song I wrote the first night we met and turned it into a beautiful lullaby. It will do wonders for your range and your dancing…"  
"Erik it sounded beautiful…"  
"Not quite as beautiful as you mon ange, nothing shall compare to you…" He picks up a thick, leather bound book and hands it to me. I open the cover, the title of the opera not yet written.  
"No title?"  
"Not yet, I was hoping to have your help in naming it." He kisses my hand softly and takes the bags from my arms. "You will have to show me these later."  
"What's the story line?"  
"The full story is this; Two sister, Trinity and Anastasia, attend the opening gala of the newly built Opera Garner, where they plan to debut their newest tenor. During the gala Christian performs the solo piece from the opera that will start rehearsal soon. Everyone falls in love with the tenor and his voice, especially Trinity and Anastasia. He sees them both and greets them both, only to have Trinity push Anastasia aside and sing her heart out to him. He falls in love with her voice and by the end of the night, which will turn into a duet, and promises to call on her in the morning. When he does, Anastasia answers the door and bids him in. He is taken with her simple beauty, unlike the pomp of her elder sister. They too begin to sing together, and he falls in love with Anastasia. He begs her to meet him in the garden after supper that night, so they can be alone after he spends the day at their chateau. After dinner they sneak off to the garden, where she shows him how well she can dance, and they dance together as the beautiful lullaby plays. He bids her goodnight and comes back often to visit the two sisters, but can only have one. He chooses Anastasia, and they are wed on stage where Trinity tries to take her place in the wedding. But after Anastasia's voice rings out through the church, Christian knows he is being lied to and kills Trinity, leaving the two lovers to marry. How is that for an opera mon amour?" I can already see how it will pan out on stage.  
"Erik it is nothing short of a masterpiece!" His lips grinned like a sly cat as he gave a dramatic bow.  
"I knew you would like it…" he takes my hand and guides me back to the piano. "Now what to call it; a masterpiece such at this cannot go unnamed." We both ponder for what seemed like an eternity.  
"Look with your heart. How does that sound for a title?" Erik's eyes light up as he quickly kisses my cheek and neatly scrolls it on the parchment.  
"Any brighter and you would be a star in the sky mon amour." He sets the finished work on the piano and takes my hand. "I have missed you all day mon ange, and I see you have been shopping. Why don't you show me the new dresses you bought in town?" I nearly giggled at his invitation and drag him to the bedroom. I change into the dark green dress first and with it comes a small applause. "This one will look lovely in church on Sundays, and even more lovely on our Sunday evening strolls." It was rather plane, similar to the tan dress I had, but the fabric had a faint pattern to it and the extra fabric around my elbows dressed it up nicely. "Do tell me you have something in red…" I could almost see his grin through the screen.  
"Don't worry mon amoureaux, I made sure to take special care in selecting a red dress…" I let the loose, short sleeves fall to the middle of my upper arm as I tighten the corset of the dress. Erik's jaw dropped as I came round the corner of the screen. The dress was a deep scarlet, nearly matching his bedsheets. The corset gave my body more of an hourglass figure and lifted my chest just enough. The skirt came to my bare feet, which was the least full of the other dresses I had purchased. Erik nearly fell out of bed trying to get a better look, making me laugh as I changed into the work dress I found. It was the most simple of them all; a white blouse with a blue overlay, blue skirt and a simple apron tied around it. The skirt came to my shin, and was perfect for moving about and moving sets. Now I moved to the last dress I bought, which was strange to me to be buying things for ME and not my brothers or for the family. The blue dress also had a corset, giving me that long envied hourglass figure. The sleeves stopped at my elbow and had thin fabric hanging from my elbows that were tied with a ribbon. The skirt was fuller than I was used to, but according to the store clerk, was the normal sized skirt for Paris women.  
"This one…is by far my favorite… you are simply breathtaking Belle…" he pushes the covers aside and comes behind me, making us face the one mirror. His hands wrap around my waist as I am pulled into his body.  
"Never let me go…" my plea is soft and quiet, like the flicker of a candle.  
"You have my word…" his lips graze against my neck, the one thing that makes my whole body melt on command. I can feel his fingers loosen my corset; his hands guiding the dress from my body. "I love you mon amour… toujours et à jamais…" he whispers on my skin as he leads me to bed.


	26. Chapter 26

The clock in the living area pulls me from my deep sleep. It only sounds out 3 bongs before resuming its dormant state. I roll to my back, my head fuzzy and groggy. The room is softly lit by three candles; one on the nightstand, one by the door and the other on the vanity. I feel the warmth of another body next to mine as I roll to my other side. Belle is finally sleeping soundly, her hair a mess strewn across the pillow as she lay on her side as her shoulder softly rises and falls with her breathing. I softly slide my arms around her bare body, the thoughts of earlier this evening making me smile all the more. I lift her head just enough to slide my arm underneath it and cradle her head on my bicep and chest. Almost on command her arms wrap around my forearm and bring it to her chest like a child cuddling their favorite toy, a soft and faint smile gracing her sleeping face before returning to its natural state. I place a soft kiss on her shoulder before curling around her and letting her breathing lull me back to sleep. The next time I wake it's to a pair of soft lips pressing to my cheek.  
"Good morning mon amour…" her voice purrs like a happy cat in the warm sun. I feel her hand run through my hair as I stretch out my back, happily popping.  
"Good morning mon ange." I pull her in for a lazy morning kiss. "You seemed to have slept well." I brush a stray strand away and hook it behind her ear. She nods her head and curls into my chest, a devious grin on her lips.  
"After last night I would be surprised if you didn't get any sleep…" She softly begins to kiss my neck, her hands wandering about freely.  
"Not now mon amoureaux…" I try to protest, but the touch of a woman is something that I cannot seem to resist; and I think Belle has figured this out. "The opera…" but her lips silence my protesting. We spend the morning in bed, neither one of us wanting to leave the bliss filled aura we've created. But as luck would have it, the clock woke from his hourly hibernation to remind us of the time, 9 bongs fill the air before the old clock retreats to the silence.  
"Curse that infernal clock… telling everyone and everything what to do and were to be…" I brush back her hair as Belle now lays on my chest.  
"I must admit I was rather enjoying the view…" my lips curl as I pull her into my kiss. "But sadly we must adjourn back to the surface." She sighs then slides off of me to the mirror while I head to the chamber pot. I help her into the lavender dress while she puts my mask on my face. I look into the mirror and laugh at the two of us; next to me she looks more like a child than a woman. Her head hardly reaches the bottom of my collarbone. I take her by the hand and lead her above, the leather score heavy in my hands.  
"What if Christine makes you change the ending…?" We arrive at the manager's door. I put a gentle kiss to her forehead.  
"Don't you worry mon ange." I push the door to, and see that we are already late to the party.  
"Monsieur and mademoiselle, glad you could join us. I trust you have our new opera ready?" Leroux was practically giddy with excitement. Badeaux was less inclined as usual; he held a handkerchief in one hand and his head in the other.  
"Do get on with this." I lay the leather bound score on his desk. The door behind us soon comes flying open.  
"So sorry I am late! Gustave was being rather fussy this… Oh…" Christine's eyes always manage to find mine weather I like it or not.  
"Good morning Madame, you are not late. We haven't even opened the score yet. Please have a seat." Badeaux rises from his stool and pulls out the chair for the Madame to sit. I quickly do the same for Belle, placing a small kiss to her hand.  
"Now then; here is the score and the synopsis." I begin to retell the tale of Trinity and Anastasia and their love triangle for Christian. I am no more through with the first act when the diva begins to protest the name of her character.  
"Trinity is rather dull compared to Anastasia. Wouldn't something more elegant like Madeline?"  
"I do agree with you Madame." _Kiss asses…_ I roll my eyes and borrow their quill and scratch out the name Trinity and add Madeline. At least the diva seems to like the part of her singing an aria in the first act. I hand her the music for the aria in hopes to distract her from the rest of my opera. Act II begins when Christian comes to call on Madeline and is greeted by her sister. She lets the tenor in and bids him to have a seat while she gets her sister. The two spend the day singing to their hearts content while Anastasia plays for them. As Christian goes to leave he catches Anastasia and asks her to join him in the garden where they sing and dance and fall in love. I tread carefully as I choose my words, but then one of those managers has to bud in.  
"Won't it be rather hard to change the stage from a house to a garden?" _Leroux you aren't helping me any…_  
"If the stagehands will follow my instructions it will be as simple as moving a chair." I continue with my explanation to the twits and the prima diva. They sister begin to talk about the tenor, claiming that he has fallen in love with her and not the other. The sisters agree that they each will have one chance to sway his mind. After supper one night Madeline gives a small concert, singing her best aria as her sister plays. Then Anastasia dances like it is her last time on earth. In the end Christian will choose Anastasia, but not without one last fight from Madeline. She tries to take her sister's place at the wedding scene, but Anastasia manages to escape her captors and run down the aisle of the church, stopping the wedding. Christian kills Madeline and lets Anastasia dress in the wedding gown for them to say their vows. "That sounds rather cruel, shouldn't the singer get the man?" Christine chides. I look up from the score, her big doe eyes fooling everyone but me. Badeaux has long since left; claiming his fever had returned.  
"I don't know Madame; I think everyone will like it. And this has nothing to do with who the crowd will pick as their favorite." Christine stomps her foot.  
"I will not have it! I think the young soprano should win in the end!"  
"That is not what I have written you little diva, the dancing girl wins in the end…" I can feel myself growling. Belle puts a hand to my arm, worried at what will happen.  
"I have a suggestion…" all eyes snap to the timid manager. He clears his throat and fumbles with his handkerchief.  
"What if we rehearsed both ending…" My eyes go wide. What the hell was he talking about? I didn't HAVE another ending written. This ending was and will be the only way MY opera WILL end. He continues. "What if at the performance we let the crowd decide who they want… then have that ending… as the…" Leroux trails off, but no more explanation is really needed. At first I wish to stride out and strangle him, then I catch a glance at Belle and Christine; _What horror would it be if a stagehand turn ballerina out shown the house's Prima Donna? What a black spot on her reputation…_ It is all I can do to hid my cat-like grin. I settle for crossing my arms and glaring at Leroux before letting out a small huff and agreeing to his madness. I can feel Christine beam with excitement; almost as if she knows she will win this competition. I return to my opera to gather the music for Cadenza as Leroux dashes out to check up on his partner. A pair of hands grab mine and pull me from the score, pieces of parchment flying everywhere as lips land on mine. I hoped to see a pair of dark blue eyes, but they were chocolate brown. I push them from my view, only to have her angelic voice practically sing out.  
"We shall be a wonderful couple! Just like we once were my Angel of Music…" _What has gotten into this woman?!_ She has all but forgotten about her husband and child, and is now trying to relive a past that was just that; the past. She was once again in love with me, though this was beyond the once child-like adoration that I fooled her with years ago. This was more of an adult romance; love and lust and seduction… My head turns to Belle, who is holding pieces of parchment in her hand, her face while like snow. Her eyes roll back as she goes limp. I practically push the Vicomtess from my arms and try to catch Belle. Her head hits the floor like a potato, a sack of potatoes.  
"Look at what you did you wretched woman! You are a curse on my existence!" Her peach skin goes pale as she… cries? Her eyes glass over as tears well up, but they never fall. _Let the bitch cry, I no longer care for her, she made her choice long ago!_ My eyes turn back to Belle. The back of her arm is beginning to turn purple, her cheek as well. I gather my music and carry her out the door. I can hear the mad clicking of the Vicomtess's heals as she storms out of the office. There will be no rehearsal for today, at least for us. I set her down in one of the auditorium chairs while I hand Cadenza and Madame Giry the scores. Madame glances over my shoulder, her ebony eyes catching a gimps of Belle. They soon turn their attention back to me, wishing an explanation. All I do is utter Christine's name and she nods her head before bidding me good day to start rehearsal with her girls. Cadenza passes out the music for a quick sight read of the opera. I can hear a small reminder that the piece comes from 'him' and suddenly the newly sight read piece begins to sound rehearsed. By the time I return to Belle she is awake, holding her head in her hands.  
"Please tell me I was hallucinating…" I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I walked just past her, keeping my back to her.  
"No…" I hardly recognized my own voice. It resonated in my body like I was someone else. She made no sound; no tears, no scream, no cry, nothing. I wondered if she had fainted again.  
"Did you enjoy it?" those four words sent spikes into my heart. I didn't turn around, seeing her heartbreak would kill me. Hearing her voice was bad enough; it was hollow, weak, lifeless.  
"No I did not, I found it rather disgusting." She still made no sound. I back up to see her; her hands hold her heavy head as tears drip to the floor. I come to my knees and take her in my arms.  
"I can't do this..." I bring her face to mine and kiss her forehead softly.  
"Yes you can… with my help you can." I brush away a loose strand of hair. "There is one thing we need to do though…"  
"What's that?" I take her hands in mine, fiddling with her engagement ring.  
"We need to keep it a secret, just until the night of the performance; then we shall tell the world… I have a silver band for you to wear until then…" Belle closed her eyes and just sat there, it seemed like an eternity before she looked back at me. How I wish I knew what was going on in her head.  
"Alright, but do I still get to stay with you…?" I sigh and kiss her hands.  
"Of course mon amour, but we shall have to leave separately." For the first time since this morning she gives me a smile.  
"What about the mirror? Christine knows about the mirror."  
"I don't know; we shall think of something." Fear begins to rise in her eyes, her whole body softly shaking. "Don't fret mon ange." I kiss her forehead once again. "I will protect you…" I pull her up from the chair and guide her to the passage under the orchestra. Once we are in one of the storage rooms, I pick her up in my arms, and not a moment too soon. She goes limp in my arms. I never knew someone could worry over me like this until now; my adventures in Persia taught me that no one cares; and even when I met Madame and Christine, they too were cold to me on occasion. But now, now I hold a girl in my arms who has worried herself sick over me; worried over if I will leave her for an old infatuation; worried that something will happen to me. I sing to her while I wander through the maze, remembering which levers to pull and how to avoid my traps. Soon we arrive home as she softly begins to stir. I look down and smile as she curls closer into my chest.  
"How does a hot bath sound mon amour?"  
"Only if I have some company…" I grin and happily oblige her. We both stay silent as we wash away the day's distresses. _This is going to be hell in a handbasket…_ how I actually let myself get talked into all this mess I wasn't very sure. Why exactly was I doing this? To prove a point? Revenge? Selfish reasons maybe? I let my mind wander as the water is drained from the tub and we change into more comfortable clothes. I retreat to my piano, Belle at my side as play a new composition. It sounds troubled and eerie, never knowing what note will come next but somehow all the notes come together to create a work of art. Belle's arms are around my waist, her head on my shoulder.  
"I love it when you play. Everything melts away and the world is right, even for a little while." I smile and kiss her cheek, a yawn escapes her lips.  
"Someone is tired?"  
"It has been a rather taxing day…" I couldn't agree more. And nothing would be better than to curl in bed with my wife to be. I play one more piece, her favorite _Music of the Night_ before retiring to her side. She stretches up to kiss me as I come to bed, several loud pops echo from her back. I draw back.  
"Please don't tell me that was you?!" she gives a soft laugh.  
"It happens when I get stressed. All that energy and tension is stored in my back and neck. Then you came around and released it." I had to laugh at her logic; it did make sense. I rolled her on her stomach and began to rub her back and neck as I sang her favorite song once again, a helpless sigh softly filling the air. Her back popped several more times as I worked, once I even though I broke her back. It sounded like the crack of a horse whip. She flinched and balled the sheets in her hands, but soon relaxed even more.  
"Any better mon amour?" She gave no answer. I looked to the side, her eyes closed. "Belle?" I shook her bare shoulder, still nothing. _She's fallen asleep_. I leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, then her cheek as I climbed off her and pulled her into my chest. She grabbed my arm and held it to her like a child. "Bonne nuit mon amour. Je t'aime pour toujours…" I whisper before falling asleep at her side.


	27. Chapter 27

I don't think I can do this; all of this nonsense with Christine and the managers has not only thrown Erik into a tail spin but me as well. Today is our first day of rehearsal and everyone is eerily quiet compared to the usual bustle and noise of the opera house. Erik lets me leave first, promising me that there was nothing to worry about. I walk on the stage, no one paying me any mind as I begin to stretch with the ballerinas. The rhythm of Madame's monotone counting is oddly soothing. What little life it brings to the stage seems to be the only sigh of life; that is until the prima donna's voice rings through as she warms up for the beginning of rehearsal. Slowly the staff begin to resume its usual pace. Maids bustle about, dusting off chairs and polishing the brass on the arms. The stagehands give me sideways glances as I walk past them in my work dress. Maestro Cadenza rapidly taps on his stand, calling everyone's attention to center stage. My eyes wander around, still waiting for Erik to make his appearance known. That's when the maestro's eyes fall on someone back stage. Soon all eyes are on someone behind me. I don't need to turn around to know whose presence is capturing everyone's attention. The near silence footfalls and the gentle sway of a cape bring a small smile to my face.  
"Good morning everyone." His silky tenor voice sings out.  
"Good morning… monsieur…" Cadenza's eyes are wide. I finally turn to see what everyone is staring at, or rather a lack there of. Erik's face is flawless, his skin is smooth, not a single blemish to be found. If I didn't know any better, I would have mistaken him for a different man. My thoughts drift back to the night we first came to the opera house; a man comes wandering in my tent, his hands grazing over one of my picture frames. The street is busy with people shopping about before the door of the opera house open. Over the crowd I can softly hear my brothers playing away as people drop francs into the hat.

 _Men and woman are gathered around our modest home as I try and milk them for all I can. If they look at a jewelry box, I suggest a small mirror to go with it. I have to milk it; I don't remember the last time I ate, and trying to keep Lukas and Conner fed, more rather keeping their hunger at bay, was no small task. Lukas understands that we can't always eat, but Conner is too young. I hand the young couple the mirror and box as they drop the francs in my hand. I quickly shove them in my pockets as I see a woman entering my tent. Her crummy hands are all over my mother's quilt and she is demanding its price. How fortunate for me she is a Germanic speaker, for when I scold her and throw her out of my tent, it is not as forced when I speak French. I growl to myself as I put our second greatest possession next to our greatest. Mother's quilt and Father's bible, the irony is almost funny. I pull myself back to my 'storefront' as a man comes forward, one of my frames in his hand. He is dressed in all his finery; a tuxedo, a cape with red lining on the underside, even a silver handled cane. I wanted to reach out and touch is cape, it shined in the dimming daylight, like fabric really shouldn't. He leaned his cane against him and let his fingers graze over my frame. It wasn't really one of my nicer ones, the detailing was scratched, but he seemed to be quite taken with it.  
"See anything you like?" His head snaps to meet mine and that's when I couldn't help but smile. His hair was blacker than ebony and neatly smoothed over his head. His eyes were bright blue; almost like ice on a frozen pond. But that smile, that smile brought everything in. He nodded his head and asked which of my elder brothers made the frame. I shook my head, saying I had no elder brothers.  
"Those two boys you were performing with are not family?" I assured him they were, and that I was the elder of my family. I paid no attention to the woman asking about one of my nicer frames. I told her the price and let her be on her way. The man moved to a money purse on his hip.  
"For your kindness, please keep it." I couldn't believe what I was saying! Did I really just let him HAVE the frame? I could have easily gotten 15 francs out of him. He seemed to like me. He nodded his head and thanked me for the gift before disappearing into the crowd. I hoped secretly we would meet again under better terms…_

"Mademoiselle?" my head snaps to Cadenza. "Are you ready to begin act one?"  
"Oui Maestro." I bobbed a small curtsey before taking my script from his outstretched arm. Erik's music at the beginning is lively and nearly boisterous. Christine and I open the opera in our room getting ready for the gala.  
 _"Sister dear I can't wait! Hurry up and make haste! For the gala will be starting soon!"_ Christine opens. Her voice rings high on the last note, everyone sighing at her sweet voice. I call back to her, this being the first time I had ever sung in public.  
 _"Sister please just a moment more! All this makeup is being a chore! Come here and help me please?"_ I match her note for note, everyone surprised at my range, including me. The music plays on as we follow our score. We sing back and forth about our gown and the nobles and wealthy that will be attending. Soon our voices lead us out the door and into the waiting 'carriage' where the first scene ends. The chords that Erik created for Christine and I are beautiful and easily resonate through the hall. We spend most of the morning roughing out the staging; where we are to stand, where the props will be, and how to act and keep your front to the audience. I never knew acting could be so hard! Of course Christine gracefully flowed across the stage as always; prim and proper like a queen. I do my best to remember all of Maestro's orders, and even some from Madame herself. Shoulders back, stand up tall! Always project your voice to the audience, more expression in your voice! By lunch my head was swimming with orders. Erik walked out from the wings of the stage and took me by the hand.  
"If you are to compete with her, you are going to need lessons."  
"Lessons from the both of us Erik." Madame takes my other hand as I am lead to a quiet spot not far from the stage.  
"She's right; by day you will practice your dance with Madame and at night with me." _Good Lord above, what have I gotten myself into?_ Madame grabs my practice uniform and slippers and drills me with all she has. The lunch hour seems to fly by, and I feel like I accomplished very little with Madame, though she insists otherwise. The orchestra warming up was my queue to change back into my dress and come back on to the stage. We quickly review the opening scene before moving on to the next scene; the gala. The whole chorus joins in for this number; it is a masquerade parts, and fans and paper faces are surely on parade as the song suggests. The choreography is saved for another day since Cadenza wants to get through as much music as possible. The two men acting as the managers come out after the number and announce their new tenor, which is Erik's queue to come out on stage. I quietly hear Christine swoon, and bite my lip to keep myself from taking a swing at her. I hear the orchestra start up a familiar piece, then Erik's voice ring through the air, taking my worries with it.  
 _"Nighttime, sharpens, heightens each sensation… darkness stirs, and wake imagination…"_ I steal a look at my simple band, wishing the original ring was on my finger. I wish I didn't have to hide our engagement; I don't care what people thing! I am in love with Erik Destler, I am engaged to the Phantom of the Opera, I am to marry the Opera ghost. I know this is the only way to keep him safe in case anyone tries to harm him. Only 2 people know of our engagement; Madame and Lukas, and we hoped to keep it that way. I feel Christine pull me closer to her as Erik sings.  
"Isn't his voice beautiful…?" she whispers  
"Angelic" I reply.  
"I know he is singing for me…" her words send lighting through my body. Soon his eyes turn to us, extending out his hand as he sings with all his might.  
 _"Let your soul take you where you long to be!"_ The pair of us begin to walk forward, the rest of the chorus fading back. He is to walk down steps toward us, singing his heart out. We come together at his last notes.  
 _"Help me make the music of the night…"_ The chorus erupts in applause at his voice. He steps back and gives a dramatic bow. Even Christine is spell bound by his song. Even I am spell bound. The rest of the afternoon rehearsal is spent on scene two and it pains me in every way. This is the scene where my sister pushes me aside and takes Christian for her own. As they waltz, I can't help but admit, they do make a nice couple. She is much taller than I, fitting his height wonderfully, and they do dance gracefully across the stage. The music soon stops and he kisses her hand before being drug away by the managers. Our original melody comes back as she is walking on clouds.  
 _"Sister did you see? How the gentleman danced with me! I could hardly breathe!"_ I cross my arms, upset at my sister.  
 _"Sister I protest! You always get the best! When it comes to men or dress. When will I get a chance to be the one you are envious of?"_ Our 'father' breaks up our bickering as he introduces Christian to us, my 'sister' reminding him of their dance. Christian kisses her hand, then turns his attention to me.  
 _"Well monsieur I am pleased to see; two beautiful daughters you have for me… I never have seen such beauty in one room. I would like to come tomorrow and call, that wouldn't be any trouble at all?"_ the father agrees, saying we both are at his disposal. That's when he kisses my hand then turns back to my sister. He says tomorrow he will call for her, then bids us come and dance and drink. This scene we rehearse all day, from the music to the staging to even minor choreography for 'Masquerade'. By the time the day ends I am ready to pounce on everyone, including Erik. I know he is acting to save his skin, but could he just keep it to a minimum? I tell myself not to be mad at him, I tell myself not to be jealous and that we will have our moment. We end rehearsal for today and everyone scampers off to their own little world. I wait in the wing, already changed into my practice uniform, for Madame to clear the stage for my second private rehearsal. I bid Lukas to come and watch, but he uttered words I thought I would never hear. He has a date. A date with a beautiful tailor's daughter who mended his clothes. I wrapped my arms around him and babied him all I could. I cooed and wooed over his newly found romance, ruffling his dull auburn hair as he grumbled at my affections. I ended my torture and left him to go about his evening with the promise of details later. The coo of a baby softly rings out as Raoul comes forward with the child. He kisses her and takes her in his arms while handing the babe off, grumbling about something. Soon the stage is quiet, the sound of birds softly singing through the evening glow.  
"Now we will work on your solo pieces. There is much to learn." She taps her cane and I follow her every command. I try my hardest to float across the stage, just like my first performance. I seem to be tripping over nothing and everything. With every twist and spin, I find myself falling over my own feet. Madame slams her cane on the floor and demands me do it again. I push harder and harder all the while my thoughts are focused on one line. _You must beat Christine; you must win…_ I throw myself into my spins, my kicks, my leaps, until I land a little too hard. My body throws me off balance, and make me land with a loud thud on the stage. _Shit… that's gonna leave a bruise…or two…_ I can hear Erik curse and come to my side, picking me up. I can hardly catch my breath; I wheeze through the throbbing pain in my core.  
"Are you alright mon amour?" he kisses my temple and helps me to my feet. I look up at Madame.  
"Do you wish…to continue…Madame…?" My voice was raspy and rugged, like I had gargled gravel. She shook her head and dismissed me like she would her ballerinas.  
"Come amour, let's get you home…" He picks me up in his arms, which I wriggle out of.  
"I can walk." I wheezed. "When can we start voice lessons?" I was angry with him, I was angry and jealous and I was doing my best not to let him see it. He shook his head  
"Not until you can breathe like normal. I am certain you bruised your diaphragm." He put a hand to my gut and put pressure, making me hiss. He took my hand and lead me back home. As we walk in the deathly darkness, I do my best to keep my jealousy at bay. One voice is telling me to scream and accuse him of being in love with her once again. It's telling me to pull away now, hurt him, run away and never look back. The voice is practically screaming in my head. In between cries comes a softer, smaller voice. It coos to me to be patient, to wait and let everything fall into place. I begin to play with the silver band on the third finger of my left hand. My fingers soon run across words I didn't even see inscribed on the ring _Toujours et_ _à_ _jamais…_ I looked back up at Erik, who still hand my other hand in his. I give it a soft squeeze, pulling his attention from the deadly trail. He only looks back for a moment before releasing my hand and pulling another lever, the sound of hissing slowly decreasing. I could hear the quiet movement of the lake as we crossed the bridge.  
"I'm sorry…" he stops in his tracks. His back remains to me. "I… I was jealous…" His head snaps back and eyes are wide. I can't exactly tell what emotion they embody, but I soon drop to my knees with my head in my hands. I shake my head. "I was jealous…" over and over I mutter those three words. Boisterous and thunderous laughter fills the cave. _Oh God he's gone mad! He's going to lose it…_ That when I feel arms wrap around me as the laughter becomes cries.  
"You were jealous… I can't believe it!" He pulls back and lifts my eyes to his. His thumb wipes away my tears. In his eyes are a mixture of emotions; I think I can see relief the most. He pulls me from my knees and into his lips. God that kiss, it was one I was not ready for. It screamed passion, love, devotion. I forget who's air I am breathing, only when he back away do I remember how to breathe. "You are my world mon ange…" his voice but a soft whisper as he kisses me once again, leading me back to the bedroom.


	28. Chapter 28

**Hello my readers! I do apologize for not posting for nearly 2 weeks. I have been working my butt off trying to pay for textbooks and I had to go to my parent's for a week to care for my grandmother and mother. I will try to post more of the final chapters of The Phantom and the Stagehand as the opera is just around the corner! For those who are going to be watching the eclipse tomorrow PLEASE USE EYE PROTECTION! The Dean of my department has been stressing this a thousand times over so I want to pass the warning along. Tomorrow is my first day of classes like many of you so good luck with this semester and kick butt! I remain your obedient servant;**

 **~The Southern Rose~**

Days bleed into weeks as we all work with due diligence on my opera. I rather enjoy being the star of my own art; more rather a known star of my own art. Last time I was a part of an opera I killed the lead male and took his place. Not that I am rather proud of my killing streak, but cornered animals are very dangerous. We are just a week away from opening the opera, and a week until I am free of the damned diva forever. I have come to believe in a law of the natural word; if it can go wrong, it will go wrong, and it will go wrong just before the big event. Everything from Belle's costumes mysteriously being ruined, to Christine's ever present flirtatious attitude toward me, to Madame's ever growing temper. Everyone on and around the stage was fully aware of the forced romantic atmosphere that Christine was trying to create with me, even Meg was beginning to grow tired of her once dear old friend. I would do my usual skulking across the catwalks during scenes I was not needed and listen to the gossip that was running wild through the cast and crew. Some claimed that Christine's son was my son, others claimed that I had once again seduced her. They remained just that; rumors, until during one break in rehearsal.  
"I am going to do it Meg. Once I win this petty competition with this stagehand turn star, I will have my angel of music back and we shall be wed…"  
"Christine don't speak such nonsense!" Meg hissed. The agitation in her voice was a clear as day. Christine was a cloud blocking out the rays of logic.  
"Meg I can't be with Raoul anymore! He's more interested in money and drinking than with me. He's not the man I fell in love with 3 years ago." My heart briefly softens before growing cold and laughing to myself at her interesting predicament.  
"But what about your son? What will happen to Gustave if you leave Raoul? You adore your child; anyone can see you are good mother."  
"Erik will be a good father to him! He can teach him to sing. Meg hearing his voice again makes me weak, like the first time he led me through the mirror." _Well you can't me now. And I do not want seconds…_ Through their chatter I can hear the voice of Madame calling out counts for Belle. I quietly make my way to the stage where Belle is being drilled once again with her dancing. If one didn't know better, you would take Belle to be a professional dancer instead of a girl from the street. Her kicks and poses were flawless, at least they were doing well to suffice Madame. Soon the managers and maestro came back to the stage to rerun the scene where the sisters make a bet to see who will win Christian's heart. I listen to their voices bicker back and forth from my hidden perch. Through every line and note I could feel something in Christine's voice. Something about her was slipping, almost creating an alternate reality in her mind. Her voice was not the pure and angelic voice I once trained, it was becoming more and more like Carlotta. The higher she went the shriller the notes became. Her voice still astounded everyone, everyone but me that is, her original teacher. The scene came to a close and that was my queue to come out of hiding and rejoin the rest of the masses for rehearsal. Today we would rehearse the ending where Madeline would win, having me kill Anastasia. I was not happy to say the least about this horrid ending, and neither was Belle. Every move Christine and I made I could feel her eyes locked on me. Just after the act had begun, I steal a glance over at where I last saw her, but she was not there. All through the rest of the scene I looked around for her, only to be met by a pair of chocolate eyes and curls. I look into her eyes, just as the script says, and that's when she goes and does it. Her eyes were hopelessly locked with mine, her face almost radiated with bliss and joy. I was to pull her into my arms as the curtain falls, but she pulls me into her and our lips lock. She refuses to let go of me until she has satisfied her lust for the time being. Everyone on stage is silent. I shove her back from me, that same blissful smile now riddled with lust and seduction. I wanted to spit in her face, but settle for wiping her kiss away with the back of my gloved hand. That's when a loud pop rang through the stage. No one paid any mind to it, for we all took it for a rope breaking or a glass shattering. Maestro Cadenza begged us run the scene once more for the orchestra's sake before we retire for the day. I look again for Belle, but she is still nowhere to be found, which does not settle well with Maestro Cadenza. He rolled his eyes and bid the orchestra start again. The sound was full and filled every unoccupied space of the opera house. The scene ends this time without any surprises and we are soon bid good evening. _Where the hell is Belle?_ The opera house settles back into its normal rhythm as I disappear from view. I push myself further into the opera house. Past the seamstress's room and into the warm up areas backstage.  
"Stop squirming… you're just going to make me get angry again…" the voice softly demands. A quiet whimper escapes when the voice begins to growl once more.  
"Please let me go… you're married…" Another pop echoes in the air, just like before.  
"I told you to stop squirming and shut up… you're just another whore in this opera house… MY opera house…" soon both voices go quiet, the only sound now is quiet creaking of springs. Soft crying begins to pepper the air as a man moan out. "Crying are we little whore? You should be used to this by now… men would love a night with an exotic beauty like you" the voice cooed. "Auburn hair and blue eyes…" the voice paused, moaning out once again "More than Christine could ever be…" I stopped breathing, I was ready to kill, and I wouldn't stop until that Vicomte's blood was like paint on the walls. Like death I slid to the door when all of the commotion stopped. I waited until the vile offender opened the door so I could personally strangle him with my bare hands but he never came. I heard another door open, then shut. Sobs broke the eerie silence. Sobs that were gut-wrenching, pitiful, broken like a mirror. I throw the door open and let light flood the dark room. Belle screams and cowers by the head of the old and dusty bed.  
"Mon Amour it's me…" she looks up from her cowering and begins to weep. I come to her side and gather her in my arms. It's all I can do not to leave her side and strangle the monster.  
"Please…don't leave… me alone…" Through the light I can see the extent of the damage. Her face is bruised and burning fire red and the rest of her is tender to the touch. "I can't… I can't do this anymore…" I brush her hair from her face and kiss her forehead.  
"You have to mon ange… you are almost done with all of this and we shall be wed. Just as I promised you." Her arms wrap around my neck as she buries herself in my chest.  
"Take me home please Erik…" I smile and wrap her bare body in a blanket before picking up the ripped dress and carrying her home. I vow to kill him once and for all. No more games, no more foreplay, just Raoul and I. One last fight, devil take the hindmost. Belle cries herself to sleep in my arms as I walk through the maze of traps. I lay her in bed and begin to unwrap her from the blanket when she jolts awake. She's poised and ready to fight, but the only fight she has is a losing one with tears.  
"It's alright mon ange, I'm right here. He's never going to harm you, I will protect you…" I coo softly as I hold her to my chest.  
"He knows Erik… he knows… about us…" I freeze. _This is not going to end well…_ I look down at her pleating eyes. "He found me backstage trying to fix my costume. He pulled me away and began to kiss me. He knew Christine was in love with you and she was going to leave him. He offered me his fortune to be his wife and I slapped him and told him to go to hell. That's when he pushed me to the wall and… and took what he wanted. He saw the ring and demanded to know my fiancé. I didn't answer and he put it together… Erik please… I can't do this…" That's when I lost it. On instinct I pushed Belle aside and screamed with everything I had. I pulled my noose from the nightstand and stormed out the door. I would kill every last person who got in my way, be it sword, lasso or bare hand, that go in my way of the Vicomte. That's when I tripped over a small box that had fallen from the nightstand. A small velvet box with precious cargo. The fall to my knees must have gone all the way to my head, for now I was thinking clearly to see that in a week, all of this madness and nonsense would be over. Belle's cries for me soon pierced my ears and brought me back to reality. I dropped the noose and picked up the box. Once back in our room I came back to Belle's side and slid the silver band from her finger, replacing her ring.  
"No more hiding. Let the world see you are my bride to be…" my hands cupped her face and pulled it to me. The kiss was soft, reassuring.  
"Oh my Erik… MY Erik how I love you so…" Her Erik, MY Belle. We belonged to each other for all times. I held her in my arms for what seemed like ages. The soft tone of the clock reminded both of us of the time. Thirty past ten. I quickly disrobe and help her into nightgown.  
"Don't you worry mon amour, I will never leave your side." I curl her into my chest as we lay in bed, letting her hair spill over my arm and onto the bed. I begin to sing her favorite song while running my fingers through her hair, her eyes closing in sleep in mere moments. I kiss her forehead and soon let myself slip into sleep.


	29. Interlude

Hello faithful readers! In case you didn't notice, my last publication date was in august of 2017. Thanks to school, work, and extra curriculars, I have been neglecting my writing. I hope to have a new chapter posted before the week is out. I was seriously sick several weeks ago with mono. For those of you who have never had it, it is a virus that you never get rid of. It's similar to the older generation that got the chicken pocks and now they have shingles to deal with. Unfortunately, one of the main triggers of the mono virus to relapse in the human body is stress; be it mental, physical, emotional, you name it. Sadly, my life is a living wreck currently. Though I am slowly healing from the pain of a broken engagement, I have found a wonderful man. Best friends really do make the best boyfriends. But with every mountain there is a valley that God has for us. I know good will come of all of this. Look for my next chapter of The Phantom and the Stagehand. Please, any and all of you reading this, leave comments at the end of each chapter or just at the last chapter. I would love to hear what the reader's think and where I should go with the story and how I should bring it to a close. I remain your humble servant

~The Southern Rose~


	30. Chapter 29

Tonight was the night of the opera, and tonight was the night I hoped that all of this madness and, quite frankly, bull shit, would come to an end forever. I didn't want to be the star for I was happy just as I was! I was a simple little stagehand with my family and I even had someone to love me for who I was. Erik has spent the last hour piecing me into my costume for the first act. I had never worn something so grand! The dress was whiter than Christmas snow and twice as soft. Scattered about were pieces of the props that were under last minute construction. Erik finished with my dress and came to my side as I finished my makeup. I made sure to try and apply every trick Meg taught me, and it made me wonder how women actually enjoyed wearing such tedious work all to take it off at the end of the day. He slid the costume jewelry on my neck and fastened it with delicate ease, sealing it with a kiss to the back of my neck.  
"You are going to be alright mon amour…I have faith in you…" I gave a small sigh and turned to face him.  
"After all of this is over with, I want to never act again. I want to just be your bride, your wife. I wouldn't mind working, I have done it all my life." He gives my hand a soft kiss  
"As my bride, you will never have to work unless you truly wish to. I will provide for your every need and desire mon ange." A knock came to the dressing room door, reminding us the show would be starting in 10 minutes. He smiled and hugged me tightly, whispering a faint "Toujours et à jamais" in my ear before walking out of the dressing room. I say a soft and quick prayer before pulling what is left of my sanity together and walk toward the stage. I see Christine on the other wing, primping her hair in a mirror. Something about her was off, she was happy, but more so than usual. Her laughter was different, an eerie tone as she is surrounded by the ballet corp. The orchestra strikes up and we assume our starting positions; _It's now or never…_ the opera begins. The first sequence blurs by in a daze; I don't miss a line but something in my heart is telling me this is all wrong. Christine has settled into an unfamiliar and almost terrifying sense of peace. Her stage presence alone has the audience captive; like her once beloved phantom she is wearing a mask to hide the disaster underneath. Her voice is all anyone can see, it is all she will let anyone see. Even Erik could tell something was off about her. Their first duet begins; her dress flows as they dance and sing together. Erik leads her gracefully about the stage; in my heart I feel a pain of jealousy. Their voices together take the audience to a new nirvana for not a single eye in the audience or even behind the stage is distracted. Every eye trained on my Erik, every eye except mine. My eyes are trained on the prima donna, something glistening underneath one of the layers of her lavish dress. Quickly my eyes meet my phantom's and he gives me a dazzling smile, warming my cold jealous heart, but not for long; Christine's lips meet his and the crowd beings to applaud with thunderous pride. Their angel of music was back once again. Madame's hand rested on my shoulder, bringing me out of trance.  
"Belle I had no idea she would try anything…" her face was dim, her peach now porcelain against her ebony hair. The streaks of silver paling with her. "I do not know what has gotten into the girl, but she needs to be stopped."  
"Oh Mother, don't they make a lovely couple again, just like old times…" Meg slowly bobbed from the shadows. She had already changed into her costume for the party scene at the home of the two sisters. "I just know they will be together again." My heart cracked once more; my only friend now turned against me? Something wasn't adding up. The time came for me to return to the stage. Madame pulled me back just long enough to whisper words of advice to me.  
"Be warned, she might try something" I nodded my head and resumed my position on stage. The next few scenes fly by rather quickly. I throw myself into the production; every movement, every line, I make damn sure the audience knows who this diva is up against. Now comes the part of the production I have busted my back for; Erik and I are in a garden setting where I try and wo his character with my charm. The whole production my hair has been pulled back tightly like a ballerina, now it lays against my peach skin, somehow with a soft wave to it. My eyes are lined with dark kohl and copper color, making them shine like jewels in the stage light. My final costume change of the evening before the second act. The blue of the dress mirrored the dark midnight sky as silver details shone like the stars. Compared to Christine's, it took up much less of the stage, and was more form fitting and modern. Our eyes met as he entered the stage and everything just melted away. There was no audience, no Christine, no Meg, no one but us. I wasn't acting anymore, I was finally showing the real me. The one who loved this man with all I had, and I didn't give a damn who saw. The harmony on the stage flowed more than any rehearsed piece. Time was suspended as we sang and danced, and all I could do was stare into those beautiful eyes and smile. The orchestra faded, leaving us to sing in simple acapella and that's when it happened; our lips met, the audience awed and gasped, and the curtain fell. That's when a scream pierced the applause; the scream of a rather pissed off diva. Meg was fanning her in a chair when the cast and crew arrived. Her face was flush and here eyed demanded blood, but who's was yet to be seen.  
"Meg what happened to her?" Christine grabbed the ballerina's arm in a death grip. Her mousy voice was barely audible over the bustle of the crowd.  
"She umm…she thought she saw a ghost…" _More like the ghosts from her past finally being put to rest._ Meg helped her to her feet and the diva just sauntered by, a quiet whisper on her lips. We shrugged our shoulder and readied ourselves for the final act. Erik was handed a small white envelope with a simple name scrolled on the thick card. Only he would know who to marry going into the second act. The second act begins with the two sisters bickering about who he loves. And only Christine and I knew that this argument has been a long time coming. Much of the argument was adlibbed, but the important lines were made to help the flow of the dialogue. Soon we agree to let our love interest decide, the light going black and the set changing as we find our places. The candles are relit and we hold our breath for the next words decide our fate; do we die, or do we marry? The air is stiff with tension as Erik walks across the stage, all eyes are focused on the next words out of his mouth. My hands nervously fidget with the gloves I am wearing, tracing the outline of a familiar ring, or not. _Oh god where is it?!_ My ring is not on my hand! _Erik is going to kill me! That is if Christine doesn't get to me first._ I look at Erik as he clears his throat, getting ready to deliver his line. That look in his eye I have seen before, he's got something planned. He smiles and stands; slowly sauntering to milk the mood, the dramatic fool. _Just say it already!_ If I could grit my teeth any harder they would surely be ground into power.  
"Ms. LeMann, Miss, Anastasia LeMann, will you marry me?" the audience cheer wildly while the ring, my ring, is slipped onto my hand and he twirls me in the air. That's when the scream only Hell itself could unleash rang through the opera house. Christine has gone mad, crying like a spoiled child. Sure this was part of the act, but not the gun. At this range she could easily kill anyone without even aiming. The stage froze, the crowd cheered, and the shot rang. Jealousy is deadly, thus God calls it one of the seven deadly sins of man. Jealously, the act of envy, sparks the wars that have ever been fought and ever will be fought. Napoleon, the Crusades, all the way back to Cain and Able. Good people die because of envy, and the act of envy, jealously. All I could hear is the ringing of the gun fired at point blank range. I don't even feel anything. My left arm is warm, slick, and is caking in my glove. I look over but I see no hole; just the burned sleeve where the bullet passed, and the blood dripping down my arm. No one is dead, no one is hurt, and Christine well, I think she did see a ghost that evening. She saw the past coming back to haunt her. Now SHE is the lonely phantom, trapped in a world where she must wear a mask and live a lie. The only one she ever loved now loves someone else. The curtains hide the stage as we try and figure out what to do. She looks at the barrel, still hot and smoking, then looks back at me. Her last shot wasted on a poor orphan. Raoul came with a doctor, who gave her something to help her sleep. Erik looks back at me, but I can hardly hear what he's saying. I shake my head, the ringing finally subsiding and every sound coming into focus.  
"Belle are you alright?" His voice but a whisper, but it's the one sound I could not live without. I nod my head and smile.  
"I am now mon amour. Take me home?" I hardly finished my statement when he picks me up and carries me in his arms.

 _3 Months Later…_

"Erik darling hurry up! You are going to be late for your own grand opening!" He smiles as he puts on his full mask, hiding his real identity from the world. No one sees scars and gaping holes, but a striking man with a wonderful head for art and business. I put on my best pair of earrings, checking my hair one last time as I feel lips pressed to my neck.  
"Why must I when I can stay here and have you all to myself…" his voice is dark and husky. I softly sigh.  
"Because you know own the Opera Gainer. Now everyone must meet Monsieur and Madame Destler. Oh Erik please that is enough!" I try and push him away, but his kisses have grown more passionate and urgent. I give in and let him rub my shoulders while kissing the nape of my neck. "The quicker we do this the quicker we can return…" one last kiss satisfies him for now. I slip into his favorite dress and help him with his cape. The once feared Phantom of the Opera now owns his opera house and has a dancing street girl turned stagehand at his side. The Phantom and the Stagehand.

 _Thank you all for sharing this adventure with me! I know this last chapter took a while to write, but I hope it was well worth the wait! I will be starting another story soon, this one is based on a true story, my story as I deal with the divorce of my parents. I am a college student, and as the only child I am the only heir, but life happens when you are off making plans and God says "nope, here is what will happen." No one plans for their parents to divorce, and most are much to young to remember the details, but at 21, I not only will remember it all, but I am heavily involved. First Chapter will be posted soon for "Diary of a Sassy Southern Woman"._


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